Where No Leaf Blooms
by Genis Aurion
Summary: COMPLETE, StanKyle. She wanted me to be the perfect boyfriend. He wanted me to be the perfect best friend. I couldn't be both, could I?
1. Prologue

♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

_Prologue_

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦

I was really young when Kyle showed it to me. We were young and curious, and we sought to find different ways to make our lives more exciting, more ways to differentiate ourselves from the rest of the mundane world, a world governed by all the cruel parents who never ceased in enforcing strict regulations. The two of us wanted to be away from it all, and we took every chance we could.

I think it was during recess when Kyle found it, but it hadn't been until the next day when Kyle took me there himself. He led me away from the other kids and to a small, covered trail that led away from the schoolyard, and into a wooded area that seemed to have no end.

"It's dwark," I had told him, but he had insisted we keep going, taking my hand as he led me in.

I don't remember the exact thoughts that had gone through my mind, but I have several hunches. I'm sure my feet against the twigs beneath us caused me panic, perhaps making me believe that we were being followed, but I doubt I wanted to turn back, not while Kyle was still with me….

And then we were there: a small clearing, with the sun shining through the hole in the canopy, and the grass growing unevenly. In the center of the clearing was a small hill, with a patch of flowers at its top.

I had looked around wildly, perhaps expecting to see a cool animal, but I found none. "What are we wooking for?" I asked him, confused.

He led me to the center, pointing carefully at the flowers there. They had been blue in color, quite pleasant looking, yet there so few of them. It my mind it made no sense; why was something so nice looking lacking in number?

"See these?" he said, lightly touching one of the petals. "We're going to be those one day."

"We're going to be flowers?" I asked.

Kyle shook his head, pointing to the uneven grass. "That's the rest of the world. Dead. No flowers." He turned to the flowers once more. "This is us. Alive. With flowers."

And then I had understood, and even as I nodded my head profusely, I found myself staring at the blue flowers. They were so peaceful, yet it seemed so fragile, so weak, yet so beautiful….

We left quickly to make it in time for school. Yet my mind lingered on those blue petals for hours and days, and when I looked at Kyle, I knew he hadn't forgotten, either. One day we would no longer be ordinary people. One day we'd leave the grass where no leaf bloomed….

But until then we were here. And I truly envied the day that flower would bloom once more.

* * *

_Posted: August 17th, 2007  
_


	2. Angel

♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

_Angel_

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦

When I was younger, I always used to wonder what it was like having a guardian angel. No, not one of those religious ones Father Maxi kept talking about in his sermons. I'm referring to angels in the figurative sense; I always wondered what it would feel like, to have someone watching over you, to guide you, to protect you from doing the wrong thing. I used to wonder if that guardian angel would be your best friend, someone to talk to when you needed a listening ear, or maybe if that angel could simply help you when you were troubled.

I always thought it would be nice to know that feeling. I'm not sure if I'll ever find out for myself, though. Maybe one day.

If I did have a guardian angel, I haven't met it yet. Maybe you never get to meet your angel—Kenny hasn't met his yet, and his angel's probably saved him from death at least a hundred times, now. Maybe I'll never meet mine.

Even if I'm seventeen now, a small part of me still hopes for the day I meet that guardian angel. It's not a pressing concern of mine, not as it had been six years ago, yet every time I turn in for the night, when I look to the small book of prayers on my nightstand, a b book my mom had given me years ago, I'm still reminded by the angel I longed to one day meet.

Tonight is no exception, especially since I've found it difficult to fall asleep over the last who-knows-how-many hours I've been awake. The blinds to my bedroom are parted slightly, a soft glow from the moon illuminating my room. I can faintly see the book, its red cover looking much darker in the absence of artificial light, and the posters among my room appearing as mere black rectangles. A bit closer to me, at the foot of my bed, my baseball cap is hanging off the bed frame, and it's perhaps the only thing in the room that has its own, distinct color.

Baseball happens to be my passion. I hated it back in my younger days, when there was no point in winning, because every kid got their own trophy, even if their team lost. I only started playing again when I was fourteen, when I entered high school, and since then my team's made it to the state championships—though we lost.

But even if we were to win this year, my current case of insomnia isn't being helped. I toss the comforters off me, and the land with a thud on the floor as I dray myself out of bed. My eyes are already adjusted to the lack of light, so hobbling over to my baseball cap isn't too difficult. I take it and slam it upon my head, and then I proceed to the window.

Directly underneath the window is a desk, where my laptop is situated. I take a seat in front of it, lowering my cap before turning it on. Especially at this time of night, the computer tends to case a blinding glare, and though wearing my cap doesn't help too much in removing it (sunglasses would definitely work better), it still does _something_ in preventing my need for contacts.

There really isn't much to do, though. I'm not too interested in watching porn at the moment—that's more of Kenny's thing. And at this time of night, there really isn't anyone to talk to, whether via instant-messaging or a simple phone call. I can still send an email to someone, at least, but no one really uses _that_ anymore… though that might just be the only thing I can do right now.

I can hear Sparky in the corner of the room, looking curiously in my direction. He's probably wondering what I'm doing this late at night, much as I'm wondering why I can't sleep when it's already so late.

I glance at my computer, which is still loading up, so I take another look around my room. I can see trophies sparkling from the light being given off by the computer—they're mostly all baseball trophies, but there're a few trophies from the academic team I was in with Kyle in our last year of middle school.

There's a whole wall I've reserved for pictures, but right now there's hardly anything, and it only looks like a blob of grey; the light of the computer doesn't help, either. Yet that blob of grey is more than that… it's a collection of the two most important people to me. One is Wendy, my girlfriend. When most people first see us together, they always seem to think we're the perfect couple, the high school sweethearts that most couples envy. But we really aren't; we've been on and off since elementary school, breaking up mostly on her account, but everything the times we _are_ together, I enjoy being with her.

The other person is—

The light's color changes, and immediately I turn my attention back to my computer. My mind becomes occupied in moving my finger across a small rectangle, tapping that rectangle, and then repeating the process. I always seem to scroll past the things I actually want to click on—I need a mouse, badly.

Eventually I have my email up and running, and I'm surprised to find that I actually have email waiting to be read. It's from Kyle Broflovski—the other important person in my life. Not for the same reasons as Wendy, of course, but he's my best friend. He's the most honest I know, and he's very realistic. From time to time we get into fights over Wendy, but we usually make up—he's only trying to prevent me from getting hurt the day Wendy finally decides….

Well… I don't really want to think about that just yet.

Curiously, I click on the email, and my eyes scan the message.

_Stan:  
You weren't online, so I decided to email you instead. I wanted to tell you something at the party, but you left really early with Wendy. You okay?  
But anyway, I wanted to say thank you for the baseball you gave me. I don't know who Tom Glavine is, but I'm sure giving a ball he's signed must mean something good.  
Call me today or tomorrow, depending when you read this. Thanks for the birthday gift!  
Kyle._

I stare at the message for some time. True, I _had_ given him an autographed baseball, but… that had been for his birthday in May… and it's the middle of July, now.

I don't think I'll need to call him tomorrow, then. It goes to show, though, how often I check my email.

I don't know if I should reply to Kyle, though. I wonder if he even checks his own email, maybe only when he needs to. Deciding against it, I close the window and look instead to Sparky.

"Hey, boy, you feel like sleeping with me tonight?" I ask him, clapping my hands together, and he eagerly comes to me. I begin to vigorously scratch his light layer of fur, yet there's something about him that's bothering me….

I look to the corner of my room, where his bed is, and even though I can't make distinctions between colors very well, I can still see that something particularly acrid in smell in on his bed….

"Aw… _aww_… Sparky!" Sparky merely pants at me, his tongue hanging out quite goofily and innocently, as if taking a crap in my room wasn't against any of the laws I've set for him. "Stay, Sparky… I'm gonna have to find something to clean this up with…."

I don't think he understands me, though, because he follows me right out the door. I decide to let him follow me (he'll probably cause a riot if I try forcing him back into my room), and as I blindly find my bathroom door, I push it open and flip open the lights.

Now I'm just even blinder, more than I was in the dark outside. I still have my cap on, yet it's so blinding still….  
I wonder if Sparky's eyes feel like this, too.

After allowing a moment to get used to the bright light, I make my way to the cupboard under the sink. My baseball cap only gets in the way though, so I peel if off before reaching inside for a particularly thick, plastic bag.

When I find what I want, I recap my head and leave the bathroom, Sparking tagging behind me. It's even harder to see in the dark, mainly because my cap can't help me this time, and so I'm forced to rely on following the walls.

I flip open the lights to my room, using the visor of my hat to shield the brightness. I rush over to the corner and pick up Sparky's… excretions…and I quickly run back to the toilet, depositing it in there before flushing.

I go back to the room and find Sparky staring expectantly at me, wagging his tail at me. I ignore him, turning to my clock—five in the morning.

"I'm not taking you for a walk," I tell him, putting on my coat as he follows me. "No, Sparky, you're not coming with me—_stay_!" He looks at me with wide-eyes, but he returns slowly to his bed without further ado. I sigh, watching my dog, and once he's seated comfortably in his corner once more, I turn to leave the room, shutting the lights behind me.

I'm not really sure where I'm headed. My first instinct is to go to Wendy's, except I know she won't wake up for me; I called her at six in the morning once, on a Saturday, and she didn't talk to me for the rest of the weekend. It's definitely something I don't want repeated, so I pull out my phone to browse other options.

I barely even look at phone before I instinctively dial Kyle's number. Would he mind?—I don't think so.

"Wha…?"

"You up?" I ask, and all I can hear at first is a bunch of grumbling.

"Fuck, Stan, it's… five? Why the hell would I be awake at this time?" He mutters a few more curse words, and I can faintly hear him moving about. "I am now, Stan. Fuck, I don't think I can go back to sleep."

Kyle doesn't normally curse this much, I don't think. "Sorry, dude," I say quickly into the phone. "So you wanna do something?"

"The fuck?" he spits into his end of the line. "You woke me to hang out? Couldn't wait till… I dunno, later?"

"Sorry," I apologize yet again. "So… wanna?"

"I guess, dude, but you better not ring the doorbell…. Folks won't be too happy."

I frown at this. "I thought you said your parents weren't home?" According to what I could remember, Kyle's parents, Gerald and Sheila Broflovski, were supposed to be out of town for the weekend, and though I'm not exactly sure where his dad had left to, I'm sure Mrs. Broflovski is off advocating some boring issue, again.

"They aren't," he says, "but Ike is. And he's much worse than I am, trust me."

"If you say so," I reply. "So… I'll meet you in a few, then?"

"Guess. You inviting anyone?"

"What?" The question seems to reverberate through my mind, as if asking such a question wasn't capable of producing a proper answer. "Er… you actually think anyone's up?"

"No," Kyle replies, and from the sound of it he's brushing his teeth now. "You got me up, though… it'll work for others."

"Not everyone wakes up as calmly as you do," I tell him, turning the corner. The sun's almost ready to rise, and in the distance I can make out Kyle's house which is slightly larger than mine. Not that that's the least bit surprising, as Kyle's dad makes a lot more money than my dad does. Still, I'm not really complaining much, because mine's still a pretty decent house.

Kyle mumbles something incoherent on the other end, perhaps so because of the toothbrush in his mouth, and I ask him to repeat himself.

"I don't think I wake up calmly," he says, spitting into what I presume is a sink. "Ike says I'm pretty nasty waking up."

"I'll take your word for it then." A random car honks at me as it passes, and from the driver seat I can barely make out Craig's middle finger pointed in my direction…. "I'm at your house, dude. Open the door."

He gives a small grunt before the line goes dead. I grumble, stuffing the phone back into my pocket as I step onto his porch; it's not _really_ a porch, because it's much too small to be one, but there's still enough room on the wooden flooring to fit a chair or two… maybe three.

I lean against his door; how long is he going to take? He sounded as if he had already finished brushing his teeth… surely sneaking down the stairs couldn't take too long, could—

Next thing I know, I'm on the ground, on my back, and in agonizing pain.

"Aw, _fuck_, dude!" I exclaim, rolling to my side. "What gives?"

"Your fault for leaning on the door in the first place," he says, rubbing his eyes. "You coming in then?"

"I'm sorta in," I tell him weakly, rolling over some more… except, my baseball cap makes it quite hard, and I have to roll again so I don't feel uncomfortable. "I'm in. Happy?"

"Guess." He gives me one last appraising look before shutting the door, turning on the lights so I can see where I'm going. He reaches a hand in my direction, which I gladly take, and once I'm up on my feet again I take a good look at Kyle.

He still looks tired, even if he claims he can't go back to sleep. Yet he looks really out of place, especially because he's fully dressed in his orange sweater and light blue jeans. Not that that's surprising, because he always wears that sweater, but it's just… _odd_… seeing it accompanied with disheveled hair and mismatched socks.

"Didn't have to dress up," I tell him as we ascend the stairs. "I wouldn't have minded."

"Geez, Stan," he snaps; "if you wanted to see me that badly in my underwear, you should've told before I changed."

"Sorry," I mutter, but he raises a finger to his lips. He nudges his head toward a closed door, and, understanding his point, we both tiptoe silently past Ike's room.

Once we're in Kyle's room, however, we can't resist the urge to break into laughter. I'm not even sure why we're laughing—maybe it's because it's barely even six and the two of us are still fully awake. But the fact remains that we're cracking up, with Kyle sprawled on the floor and me on my side, on his bed, and the justification or cause is way past our minds at the moment.

"Who'd you call?" he asks me between laughs, standing up from the floor.

I look at him blankly; who'd I call…?  
Oh… that.

"I didn't call anyone," I tell him honestly. "It kinda slipped outta my mind, sorry."

"That's fine," he tells me, and I watch him as he jumps onto his bed. It causes the bed to creak, even launching me slightly into the air; and he lands with a thud beside me, his arm smacking me right in the mouth.

"So, Stan," he begins, as if he hadn't hit me, "what's the real reason you're here?"

"Real reason…?" I ask, sputtering what's either blood or saliva… and I'm hoping it's the latter.

"Sure, dude, you don't wake me up at five oh fucking clock every morning, do you?"

"No… I guess not." Kyle gives a laugh, heaving a sigh as we look at the popcorn ceiling. "I just… couldn't sleep. That's all."

"Couldn't go to Wendy?"

I shake my head profusely. "No, Ky, she would've… murdered me."

"And you thought _I_ wouldn't have?" He turns to me, and as I glance sideways at him, I can see a devious smirk developing on his face. "You're right here, Stan. I could potentially murder you for waking me up, too."

"But you wouldn't do that," I tease, sticking my tongue at him. "You love me too much."

"Maybe I do," he says simply, and with that, we become immersed once more with the popcorn ceiling above us.

* * *

_Posted: August 17th, 2007  
_


	3. Kenny

♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

_Kenny_

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦

Being with Kyle makes time fly rather quickly. I'm hardly aware of what time it is, and not just because there're hardly any clocks in his room; we surf the internet, pull out a game of Yahtzee, and prank call random people from the phone book, and in the midst of our fun, time isn't really something I choose to worry about.

In fact, it's only when Wendy calls me when I realize how much time's passed.

"Hey Babe, what's up?"

"Nothing just woke up late…. I didn't wake up you up, did I?"

"No, no, not at all…." I turned to Kyle, who apparently can hear Wendy's voice as clearly as I can, and we both snicker under our breaths. I haven't exactly slept yet…. "You doing all right?"

"Yeah, like I said, just woke up…. Are you at Kyle's house?"

I find myself glancing to Kyle, who's wearing the same guilty face as I am. Not that there's anything wrong with being at his house, but it's just strange how Wendy knows these things sometimes…. "Y…yeah, I am. Wends, have I ever told you you're psychic?"

She gives an affirmative answer and quickly assaults that subject. "Why so early?"

"Er…." I'm not sure if I want to tell her about my slight problem with insomnia. I could tell Kyle easily; he understands me more than I realize, sometimes. But Wendy… yes, she's my girlfriend, but… that's just it. She'd probably freak out and refer me to a doctor, or something.

"Tell her you needed to study for the SATs," Kyle suggests to me, but I shake my head.

"She knows I already took those," I mouth in his direction and his brow furrows.

"Stan?"

"Tell her you're baby-sitting Ike." But again I shake my head; Kyle's here with me, and there's no point in baby-sitting Ike if Kyle isn't away.

"I… really wanted to see him," I decide at last, frowning at Kyle's dejected face. I just complemented him!—I don't see what he's so disappointed about!

…I figure out soon enough though, as Wendy's voice booms into my ear. "You wanted to see _him_! Stan, why not me?"

"Wends, you're not a pleasant person when you first wake up. I'm sorry…."

"It isn't that early though!" she exclaims. "Stan, it's already noon. I wouldn't have gotten too angry if you had woken me up."

I frowned; it's noon already?

"Sorry, Babe," I tell her soothingly, and at least she lowers her voice and calms down slightly. "Tell you what: I'll make it up to you tonight. You and me. Where'd you wanna go?"

"Stan, you don't—"

"I insist!" I exclaim, cutting her off. "It's on me, Wends. Just name a place and I'll take you there." By now Kyle's turned his attention elsewhere, and as I watch him curiously I hear Wendy's response. "Shakey's Pizza, you sure?"

"Nothing big," she says. "Haven't been there in a while, and I know you don't get your paycheck till this Friday."

"Whatever you say goes," I tell her, and for some reason I grin widely. It's not like she'll see it, but…. "I'll talk to you later, kay?

"Bye, Stan," and with that the line goes dead. I don't immediately remove the phone off my ear, as if I was still expecting Wendy's voice to magically come back. Yet such a voice never comes, and in the end I quietly stuff the phone back in my pocket, making sure to remember the date I now had with Wendy later that day.

"You done?" asks Kyle, his back still turned to me, and for a moment I don't respond. I'm curious as to what he's been doing this entire time, and if it weren't for his long, curly, red Jewfro, I could possibly look over his shoulder and find out for myself.

He turns around at that very moment and gives me an expectant look, and even then it takes me a few moments to figure out why he's looking at me like that. "Er, yeah… sorry… I'm done."

"Kenny called me," Kyle informs me, standing up from his position on the floor. "Wants us over for a while. You up for it?"

"Suppose," I reply, and with that I follow him out of his room. It seems that Ike's still sleeping in his room, the door shut as it had been hours before, but as we descend the stairs Kyle makes a sharp turn away from the front door, and instead towards the kitchen. "Kyle?"

"Sorry, you can wait there, if you want." And of course, given the option, I do exactly that. Looking around, there're many family portraits around their living room, and even on their mantelpiece there're solo pictures of Ike and Kyle. There's a large picture hanging above their television, one that I'm sure Kyle wishes were never there; it's an older one, maybe when he had been ten, and I'm almost positive his mom had forced that sweater-vest on him that day….

"Stop staring," he mutters weakly, and as I turn to him he tosses me a bag of Ritz sandwiches—the cheese kind. "In case Kenny's got no food. Thought you might want somethin' before we left."

"Thanks," I say gratefully, and after a quick acknowledgement we leave his house. There's no point in driving, as Kenny's is not even a five-minute's walk from here, so we set to his house on foot. Kyle has this certain something in his stride, though, and he walks much too fast for me to keep up with him at a normal pace. I'm not sure if it's because he's in a hurry or because he's got long legs, but him forcing me to walk faster does make me a bit more tired….

…I haven't slept yet. And I still had to make it all the way to my date with Wendy.

The sky's now a pale blue, in contrast to the navy blue it had been before the sun rose. Even though I'd typically call this the '_perfect weather,_' there're still a few clouds here and there, a particular few insistent on covering the sun. I don't think at this point there's a reason to keep my hat on, so I take it off and let it hang amongst my fingers by my side.

I know we've made it to his house when the houses to my left stop lining up house after house. In fact, where another house would've sat, there's a small, trailer-looking house instead, much different than the other houses. Actually, it's so much that Cartman doesn't even consider it a house, and sometimes, out of its mere repetition, Kyle and I do the same unintentionally.

I knock on the door, and though we can hear voices on the other end, no one opens the door.

"…for the last time," cries a female voice, "get off your sorry ass and bring some money into this house!"

"I don't give two shits, bitch. I do what I wanna do."

"Don't talk to me like that, you've got no right! You're supposed to be helping me with the kids, but _no_! All _you_ do is sit on that _damned_ couch and drink your fucking booze!"

"You _sure_ Kenny invited us here?" I ask Kyle, but he only gives me a questioning shrug. Yet even if his lips are pursed, there's still a strange hissing sound in my ears, and for the wildest moment I think there's a bird trying to tell me something.

Apparently I'm not the only one who hears it though, because after I hear the hissing sound again, he frowns and looks around wildly. All the while we're searching frantically for the source, Mrs. McKormick is continuing to scream at her husband.

"You _bastard_!"

"_Bitch!_"

"_Gigolo!_"

"_Slut! Fucking whore!_"

And all the while that hissing sound is buzzing our ears.

"Oh, for the love of god, _Kyle_!" And with that, at long last, we find the source of the mysterious noise: Kenny, from his window, with his hands shaped like an "o" around his lips. "In here."

"But… the door…?" but my question's never finished; Kyle grabs me by the arm and drags him to Kenny's window, and he helps me through before stumbling inside. "Kenny… what the heck?"

"Can't go through the door," Kenny says glumly. "Parents are having a small fight again."

"_Small_?" I exclaim, but Kenny only nods, dismissing my challenge. "Ken…."

"I'm fine," he assures me, "they never bring any of us into their fights. Unlike dad, mom actually cares about us… though sometimes it doesn't seem like it." He sighs, shrugging as he extends his arm somewhere behind him. "Well, guys… welcome to my room!"

"We've been here before," I tell him, looking around the room. His walls are bare; there's an unmade bed against the wall, and further on there's a closet, though I'm thinking it's probably empty. He's got no beddings except for one blanket, which hangs loosely to the ground, stopping at Kyle's feet. There really isn't _anything_ in his room, though in the corner I do spot a box that once contained a PSP…. "So… what's there to do?"

Kenny looks at the both of us with remorse. "I'm sorry, I… you shouldn't have come here. You guys are probably just gonna be bored here."

"No, Ken, you—" but my sentence remains unfinished. Instead I find myself turning to Kyle, who's looking at the ground guiltily, as if he's done something wrong. Yet I'm kinda confused of the moment myself; I don't understand what exactly Kenny's so sorry about, or what Kyle seems regretful of.

"Er… you want this?" I ask in an attempt to break the silence. Kenny looks at me curiously as I pull out the bag of Ritz I hadn't touched. "I didn't really open it, but if you—"

"Sure," he says quickly, and I hand him the bag. I can't help but to notice, though, how hurriedly he rips the bag, and how he greedily stuffs the crackers into his throat, and I decide to turn away as Kenny continues to eat his small meal.

From the corner of my eye I catch Kyle's gaze, and he seems to be thinking the same thing I am. "Ken…" Kyle begins; "Ken, your parents aren't… they aren't _starving_ you, are they?"

"Of course not," he mumbles between mouthfuls.

"Sure?"

"Yeah… they can't be starving us purposely if they haven't got food to begin with, right?"

"Fucking hell, Ken!" I exclaim, standing up. "You can't let them do this, dude! Tell them to get a job or some—"

"That's what they're doing," Kenny replies grimly, nudging his head to the door. At that moment I lose all retort—this isn't my war. I turn to Kyle, who nods quietly, and with a disapproving shake of my head, I turn away.

"I've got a bit of my dad's alcohol, anyway," Kenny continues, lifting a bottle. "It's pretty easy to cope." He gave Kyle a smug smile before looking my way once more. "Look, Stan. I'm glad the two of you came, I really am. I think their yelling's a lot less painful when you guys are around."

"You're welcome, Ken—"

"—but I think you should get going," he finishes, and instinctively I turn to his window.

"Through there?"

"Yeah." He nods in my direction before turning to Kyle. "…Kyle…?"

"Stan, go ahead," he says, not looking at me. "I'll catch up with you… I wanna talk to Kenny, first—_go_!" and without being told again I climb once more out of the window, leaning against the side of Kenny's house to wait for Kyle.

There's a painful feeling in my gut, even though I've resolved not to interfere with the problem. For as long as I've known him, Kenny's always been on the poor ends of things. I'm surprised he was even able to purchase a PSP; they never had enough food to begin with, let alone a steady source of income, and it didn't help any that their father was a wasted alcoholic.

As I close my eyes I can hear yelling—except now it isn't just Kenny's parents' voices I hear. I can hear Kyle's voice through the window, and though I can hear him perfectly fine, I choose not to listen to him.

I don't even remember why I'm here anymore. What had Kyle said?—that he wanted us over for a while? Yet he dismissed us quite willingly, even though he admitted having us would be nice….

"We're going," spits Kyle the second I'm about to fall asleep, and as I open my eyes I find Kyle stalking away. It takes a great deal of effort just to follow him, especially since sleep's _almost_ caught up with me, but I do manage in the end, slackening to a mere walk.

"What the hell was that?" I ask loudly, noting the fact that Kyle's not looking at me. "We _randomly_ decide to go to Kenny's house, and we just _happen_ to witness their family—"

"Sorry for bringing you," he says coldly. "If you didn't want to come, should've said so."

"But—of course I _wanted_ to go, but you should've at least told me what we'd be getting into."

"I didn't know." I scoff at this; I'm not sure where my retort is coming from now, and for a split second I feel bad for releasing on Kyle. Yet the fact that he's not looking at me and the fact that he looks guilty… that remorse is washed away. "I called Kenny, Stan, just to ask him if he wanted to hang out with us. He said yes, but there was something in his voice, like he was hurt…."

"He said his parents never included their children in their fights," I tell him, trying to remember Kenny's exact words.

"Load of bullshit," he grumbled, turning away. The sky's become more littered with clouds now, and I'm not really sure how they all formed there; it's as if they've dressed the sky to fit our mood, or something, because it seemed only seconds before when the sky was clearer, when Kyle and I had nothing to trouble our minds….

"Anyway," he continues, clearing his throat, "just forget about it."

"It's kinda hard to forget about a starving friend, Kyle."

"He doesn't want our help," he insists, and he gives me what may just be the cruelest glare he's ever given me. I don't understand why he's being so cold about it; was it the same reason I felt so desperate and angry when I first heard?

"I think I'm gonna go home then," I say weakly. "Need to sleep before Wendy, you know…."

"I guess. Later, then?" He gives a wave, and I tip my hat before I watch him climb the steps to his house. For some reason I don't move, not until he's inside, and even then I'm still staring at the door. Maybe it's just the lack of sleep that's affecting the way I'm currently seeing things, but….

I walk alone for the remaining two minutes. By now there're small kids on the streets playing street hockey, and to the side a small group of parents are watching the game. Perhaps further down I can see Craig and a few other boys skateboarding, but I don't pay them much attention as I reach my house, fumbling for my keys….

…keys I had forgotten to bring with me….

I panic for a quick second, but that doesn't last; if I had no keys, I probably didn't lock the door. And sure enough, the door swings open when I want it to, and after closing it quietly I yell into the house.

No one's home… or no one's awake.

I trudge up the stairs and into my room, tossing the hat onto my desk as I peel off my shirt. From the corner of my eye I see Sparky looking expectantly at me while wagging his tail, but I ignore him as I pull on a more comfortable shirt; as long as he hasn't peed in his bed, I don't really want to worry about him….

I collapse on my bed. There're many things I want to think about, and many other things I end up thinking about anyway. I think of Kyle, I think of my date with Wendy, and I think of Ritz crackers.

…and I think of Kenny… and how he doesn't even _have_ a phone.  
I want to slap my head, but I'm too tired.

Kenny….

Had Kyle lied to me, then?

_Kenny_….

And with that last thought I'm out like a light.

* * *

_Posted: August 18th, 2007_


	4. Complex

♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

_Complex_

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦

I had that dream again. 

It's more of a nightmare, actually, depending how you look at it. It always starts the same way; I'm in my bed when I hear a noise, and I leave the bed to look for its source. I always glance at Sparky, frowning at his demeanor, not panting and wagging his tail as he always does; but I always ignore him and continue to my door, opening it quietly and slipping through the small opening I've created.

My house's hallway never greets me on the other side. I always enter into a dark, wall-less room, devoid of anything except darkness and sheer silence. I always call into the darkness, I always feel my way through the gloom, blindly, yet I always end up with nothing except with what I've started with. Here my dream changes occasionally; sometimes I call for Kyle, and other times I shout for Wendy's aid. Yet the end result is the same, and each time the transparent floor beneath me gives way, and no matter the beginning I still fall into the same black pit.

I never stop. I keep falling, and I'm always filled with the same hope, a hope that wishes I'll land on something soft, or even just to stop falling altogether. But I don't stop, and even though I know at this point that it's only a dream, I don't wake up.

The first time I had this dream, I couldn't wake up. But now, I only continue the dream because I don't _want_ to wake up, because there's a part of me that longs to see the end of the dream. I want to see what's beyond the voices that whisper quietly to me, the voices that chant my name—but I never do. It seems like days and days where I keep falling and falling, but I never get to the bottom.

Eventually I'm pulled out of that dream, willingly or not, and even though I'm done falling, I remain still in bed, sometimes with my arms spread out, as if I were still falling. Yet there's a time when I _do_ get out of bed, like what I'm doing now, and the part of me that wishes the dream's end… has given up hope again.

I blink; there's something familiar with this scene. The house is quiet, _very_ quiet, and there's no light emerging from my slightly open door. Usually in the evenings I can hear Shelley's blaring music booming through my walls, but there's none of that, either. In fact, it seems like no one in my family is awake, and I doubt they're even here, for that matter.

I raise a hand in my confusion, and in the process I feel the beaded sweat that's formed on my forehead. I always wonder at that; for a dream about falling, I sure sweat a lot, even if I'm barely moving. But perhaps that doesn't really matter whether you sweat or not… maybe you sweat only when you panic, regardless in what way.

But the question about my parents still confuses me; had they said they were leaving? I close my eyes to try and think—no, I don't think they did. I wasn't in the house to hear about it, at least, since I had fallen asleep the second I got back from being with Kyle….

Fallen asleep… what time was it now?

I look rapidly around the room, even though I know exactly where my clock is.

…Midnight.

Fuck.

I missed my date with Wendy.

Panic-stricken, I scavenge my desk for my cell phone, knocking over about half the things on there. I'm almost positive I hear glass breaking—maybe just my imagination—and as I grasp my phone desperately I quickly flip it open.

Seventeen missed phone calls… fuck.

For a split second I consider calling Wendy, but as my finger hovers over her speed dial number, I hesitate to push the button. Apologizing to her might be the best thing to do, yet… it's already midnight. For all I know she could be sleeping already and she'd only be even angrier. Yet at the same time, _not_ apologizing wouldn't be too good, either….

In the end I press a few buttons, and as my fingers begin to rapidly press buttons on the phone I look to Sparky. A part of me expects to see him sleeping, not paying attention to me; but instead I find him wagging his tail as he always does, and this allows me to relax slightly.

When my fingers are done, I turn my head to my phone. I read over it once, checking for errors in the message, and with a sigh I press the send button.

A text message would have to do.

With a groan I collapse back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling as my eyes slide out of focus. God, I don't want to think about what Wendy's gonna to do when she next sees me…. For all I know she's probably going to bitch at me again… or maybe we'll just break up for, what, the twenty-sixth time? Admittedly that _would_ be rather extreme, and I'm only hoping it doesn't go that far….

But now, as I'm staring at the popcorn ceiling, only one thought occurs to me: now what.

And I'm merely facing the same problem as I did last night. There would definitely be no sleeping, as I just did that… but at the same time, there's nothing I can really do without waking up the rest of my family. True, I _could_ probably log onto my instant messaging system or maybe even send an email, for once… but why would I even _consider_ the latter?

Yet I turn on my computer anyway, as I decide to try seeing if anyone's online. It takes a little while; it's not exactly the newest laptop around, but it still serves the purposes I need it for. Plus, it's a notebook computer, and that automatically makes it better than a heavy desktop one.

While I'm waiting, I twirl my cell phone between my fingers—should I call someone? I already know Wendy dislikes losing sleep, and Kenny doesn't even have a phone…. So really, that just left Kyle and a few others. But definitely Kyle.

When my computer's ready I open up my instant messaging system. But before I can even see who's online, two windows magically pop up before my eyes, and I stop to read them carefully.

The first roughly reads something along the lines of:

_Sup fag?_

While the other reads (accompanied with proper punctuation and capitalization):

_Douche._

I'm not surprised with the first message, of course, once I find out that it's Cartman who's sent it to me. However, my eyes linger on Kyle's message, and, with a frown, I reply to him first.

_Turd_.

I'm not sure if Kyle's really angry at me, or if he's just making a joke. But it doesn't matter at this point, and though I want something to do while waiting for Kyle's reply, I really don't wanna answer Cartman, either….

Kyle's message comes in due time—it's rather long.

_Turd sandwich.  
Listen, I'm sorry for bringing you to Kenny's house yesterday. You shouldn't have come; you didn't even know about Kenny's hardships. I mean, I didn't either, but I had my suspicions. I was talking to him the night before you showed up at my house, and he was being evasive, which is why I wanted to see if he was okay.  
He didn't really call me, of course. But there was no way you would've come unless I had a legit reason. I'm not sure why I wanted you to come with me, which is why I apologized for that. But… I feel bad for him, dude. I want to do something about him, yet at the same time, I don't want to feel like I'm intruding in his business.  
Anyway, sorry for being a complete douche earlier. Hope you forgive me._

For a second I'm expecting to see his name signed at the bottom, until I realize that it's merely an instant message, and not an email. Yet I find myself reading it once, and then twice—and though I read it again, I don't really read the whole time; I guess that'd make it two and a half times, then.

My fingers are poised above the keyboard, but I can't think of a way to answer him. Personally, I don't even think it's much of a big deal, but… apparently, to Kyle, it had been. But apparently he _did_ care for Kenny's wellbeing, and that he was trying his best not to get his own opinions bias his claim to forget about Kenny's issue….

There's only one thing I can type, really.

_Don't worry about it._

And then another pause. That's the thing with instant messaging—it's not very instant at all. Sure, maybe it _is_ an improvement from email, yet it still takes a considerable amount of time before the reply actually comes…. Yet another reason why having phone calls is so much better.

When Kyle _still_ hasn't replied, I glance toward Sparky, but there's something funny about the way he's sitting. He's sitting in his corner, panting, his tongue hanging out at me as always; but he's got his leg up funnily, standing on his right as he raises his left uncomfortably in the air….

"Shit!" I accidentally say aloud, and I immediately stand up to fetch his leash. Within moments I find it, and I quickly attach it to Sparky's collar as I race to my computer.

_Sparky's gotta piss, be right back_.

Something else from Cartman is flashing at me from the bottom of the screen, but I ignore it as I lead Sparky out the door. He's quite eager to leave the house, and he scratches at the front door (which goes against the rules we've set for him, of course) as I unlock the front door and let him out.

…at least he didn't pee while he was inside the house.

Sparky's an old dog, though, so most of my family cuts him slack. I try not to, though sometimes I _have_ to, but generally speaking I think that the older the dog the more he should know the rules. Still, as I wait for him to do his business outside (he has to take a dump, too, apparently), I look around.

No one.

South Park is pretty much dead after ten at night—or at least, in this area. Families are all home by eight or so, and anyone who's actually outside at this time usually doesn't come home until past four. All the cars are parked in their respective driveways, though a few households here and there have cars on the street. Almost all the lights are out in the houses, and every other street lamp is broken as a result of our mayor's poor funding habits.

My left leg suddenly feels funny, and for a moment I feel like it is Sparky nudging at my lower leg, telling me he's done. However, within seconds I realize it's actually my phone, the phone I had somehow managed to stuff into my pocket before leaving my room. I pull it out of my pocket, and once I see it's Kyle I answer it rather quickly.

"Sup?"

"Nothing. You've ruined my fucking sleeping schedule, dude. Be happy."

"I am," I tell him cheekily, and I can hear him scowl from his end. "So why'd you call me, Kyle?"

"Because you said Sparky had to piss," Kyle replies quietly. "Besides, I'm stiff bored and I've got nothing to do." He pauses for a moment to heave a sigh, and before I can say something he continues. "…more emphasis on bored, though. I'm sure Kenny could've slipped a joke in there if he heard me…."

"Probably could," I tell him, and we both give a laugh.

"So how was your date with Wendy?" he asks me, and I don't immediately give a response. Of course, there wasn't any way he could've known I had missed my date, unless Wendy called him personally… but I have the strangest feeling the two of them don't get along very well.

"I… I didn't go."

I'm sure if I could see his face he'd be wearing a blank "WTF dude!" expression on his face. "Why the hell not, dude? Are you _trying_ to get her to break up with you or something?"

"No, dude, I didn't mean it like that." I shake my head, watching Sparky as he marks his 'territory'. "I… I kinda slept through it."

"Douche," he spits at me, and I laugh nervously. "So what're you gonna do about it, then?"

"I… I have no idea, Kyle. I mean, I sent her a text message and stuff, because I didn't want to wake her up or anything."

"What'd you say?"

I hesitate for a moment to think of what I had sent her; it hadn't been that long ago, yet it seemed so faint in my mind…. "Sorry for missing our date, can we make it up another day?"

I think Kyle's shaking his head at me right now, but I'm not sure. "Stan…. You didn't even explain to her _why_ you missed your date?"

I blink. "No… do you think she needed to know?"

"Stan, you're hopeless."

"That's why I have you," I say with a laugh. "Oh, Kyle, where would I be without the aid of your intelligence?"

He laughs airily at my sarcasm, but he says nothing. At this point I feel another something against my leg—and I really _do_ think Sparky's nudging at me this time.

I pull lightly on his leash, and with slight eagerness he follows me as I walk through the deserted streets. "Have any plans for tomorrow?" I ask him politely, and he ponders an answer.

"…nothing, I think. Ike's going to summer camp, but other than that I'm not doing anything." I nod my head understandingly, pulling on Sparky's leash before he tries peeing in someone's lawn. "Why you ask?"

I laugh at his improper grammar but say nothing about it. "Nothing, really. Just making sure you're available in case I have a dying urge to hang out with my best friend."

"Flattered," he says simply, yet there's a clear sarcastic undertone in his voice; "but no thanks, Stan. I believe you've got a girlfriend to make up time with?"

I pout, even if he can't see me. "She's gonna crucify me, dude. If anything you should be there with me! Save me from my castration!"

"At this rate, Stan, I'll be sleeping past your crucifixion."

"What?" I exclaim playfully; "you're not coming to my funeral?"

"Of course, not, dude. I'll just ask Ike to videotape it."

I laugh dryly. "I think your brain needs rest. Your humor sucks balls."

"So does your mom," he says, and before I can counterattack he quickly utters his farewells, my insults heard only by the sound of a dead line. I turn to Sparky, who takes my playfully shocked face a little too seriously, and for some random reason he decides to bark at me, as if I'd been abducted by my identical twin….

As I turn the block to Wendy's house, and even as I walk right past it, I can't help but to think…. Why couldn't Wendy be more like Kyle?

* * *

_Posted: August 25th, 2007_


	5. Unbroken

♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

_Unbroken_

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦

Six hours without Kyle is much longer than it would be with Kyle. I had gotten home from my walk at roughly one thirty, and I'm sure I would've taken longer if Officer Barbrady hadn't let me off so easily on breaking the town's curfew. But then, that's what we get for having a douche as our police officer.

Once I got home, however, it had taken _quite_ a good deal of time to pass the rest of the time. Sleep wouldn't come easily, of course, and by the time I'd arrived Kyle was already signed off of his instant messaging account. And since the only option would be to entertain Cartman, I decided to shut off my computer and turn my attention elsewhere.

I don't even know anymore what I did. I fed Sparky, of course, and gave him some water; but besides that, I really didn't do much. At least if this were during the school year I'd be able to do some homework, but it's over the summer, and almost everything done during the summer requires a friend who _isn't_ sleeping.

Eventually, though, I do get through the night, and after lying for hours and hours on my bed without the slightest trace of fatigue, my phone rings. Glad that even the smallest distraction has finally come my way, I jump off my bed and immediately pick up the call.

"Hey!"

"Stan…."

I gulp that the sound of Wendy's voice. Fuck, it's only seven thirty, and already her voice has a certain tremble in it. In a way it seems like she's been crying, yet there's a terrible blend of wrath, disappointment, and vengeance. It's times like these I always ask myself why I keep putting up with her, though I do know that having Wendy as my on-and-off girlfriend is almost the same as needing air to breathe.

…don't ask why. They just go hand in hand.

"Hey Babe… listen, I'm—"

"You missed our date," she says quietly, yet the power in her voice is enough to silence me. "You missed our date, Stan."

"Wends, I'm sorry, I really am." I heave a sigh, grumbling as I flop onto the bed. "I dunno, Babe, I fell asleep…."

Apparently that hadn't been the wisest of things to say, because immediately her snappish voice kicks in, and she scolds at me for being irresponsible yet again. I've hear the speech before, so I merely tune out, looking around my room as she recommends my usage of an alarm clock.

I'm not sure if I should tell her that I had had insomnia the night before. Knowing her, she'd probably freak, but right now it's the only thing that might save me…. And so, after waiting for her to stop talking about not taking naps in the middle of the day, I tell her my little problem of the night before.

She reacts exactly as I thought she would… no surprise, there. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" she exclaims enthusiastically, and for a moment I have to remind myself that it's seven thirty in the morning and that I'm not used to hearing her talk to me like this at this time of day. After all, she's barely a morning person, and on most _normal_ occasions, she would probably bite my head off.

She begins listing off things I should do, counting sheep being the first on her list. I haven't counted sheep in ages—it doesn't work, and I thought _everyone_ knew that by now… but I guess not. "Your sleeping pattern is unhealthy, Stan," she continues; "I think you should go to the doctor and see if it's some side effect from something…. Are you taking any medications or something?"

"No, Wends."

"Just asking geez," she snaps, but before I can retort she goes back into concerned-mother mode. "Stop taking naps in the middle of the day, Stan! I'm sure that has something to do with it. And you should probably hold off on soda—drink more water. Chocolate milk isn't a bad idea, either, especially if you're ready to—"

"Thanks, Wends," I interject, "but I think I'm fine for now. There're more important things than my insomnia problem at the moment."

"Kay." There's a silence for a moment, my eyes wandering; but before I can begin to think of what she's doing, she starts up once more. "You mean like why you didn't tell me you had sleeping problems when you called from Kyle's?"

"Wends, I—"

"You could tell Kyle, of course," she snaps, shaking her head. "Of _course_ you'd tell Kyle, your best friend. Yet do I not get that same privilege for being your girlfriend?"

I gape at my phone. "Wendy, I… it doesn't work like that. Being my girlfriend doesn't make you my best friend."

"It _should_!" her shrill voice yells from the other end. "And even if it doesn't, it doesn't mean you have to go giving him exclusive rights! I mean, did you even think that _I'd_ care about this more than he would?"

"I was under the impression you'd freak out on me," I tell her weakly; "and clearly, I was right."

She starts muttering stuff under her breath, though I don't strain myself to catch what she's saying. Instead my eye meet's Sparky's, who seems to want to go for a walk yet again.

Damn dog.

"I don't want to have to say this," Wendy says, and for a split second I fear the worst. Except, I don't really think breaking up with me would be the _worst_, because it happens way too often, and I've gotten quite used to it. And even so, if she did break up with me, I'd only have to wait a week before she'll want me again.

"Stan, I want you to choose."

"Choose?"

"Yes, Stan, choose. Choose: Kyle… or me."

I think this is worse than a breakup, actually.

"Wends—no, _Wendy_—you can't just expect me to… _choose_, do you?" Even if I had to choose, I don't even think I could really do it. I could never imagine myself being with any other girl, yet… Kyle isn't even a girl. But I enjoy being with Kyle more, but I still love spending time with… with Wendy….

"Wrong answer, Stan," she hisses, and with that the line goes dead.

Sparky barks at me, but I ignore him. Instead I remain motionless, hand on phone on ear. Blankly staring at the wall, I try to process the many things going through my head, but ultimately I give up and merely let it confuse me. But I'm still staring at the wall, ignoring my body's desire to at least move around.

Wendy thinks I choose Kyle over her now. But though I'm sure I didn't mean for that to happen, I don't even know… _had_ I chosen Kyle over her?

I think I would've stalled too, if Kyle had asked and not Wendy.

Eventually, though, I shake it off and move on. That's what always happens. Every time Wendy breaks up with me I merely wait a week or so, and eventually she'll come back to her senses and want me again. That's just how she is; that's just how we are. I think both of us really do know there're better people out there, yet until we find that person we take advantage of each other.

At least, that's what I think.

During that week or so, things aren't always so great. My cell phone remains unusually silent, which isn't any surprise at all. Wendy's really the only person who calls me regularly—I'm the one who tends to call Kyle. Sure, occasionally I do get occasional calls from Craig, who keeps insisting we start baseball practices over the summer; and occasionally, I do get those random people who somehow keep dialing the same wrong number. I even get calls from Cartman, which I usually ignore. Yet in that week without Wendy, I find myself needing less and less of my phone.

During that week I also hang out with Kyle more. I feel somewhat guilty, especially since our twenty-sixth breakup was over exactly this, in that I was spending much more time with Kyle… yet what else could I do? We'd broken up. It's not like I'd be hanging out with Wendy more.

That week usually passes without problem, but this time it doesn't. At first it seems fine, and I merely occupy myself with Kyle and Kenny; but once I've hit the second day of the second week, I begin to wonder if Wendy will actually come back this time.

"…and you think I'd know?" Kyle tells me when I present him with my concerns. "I'm not a counselor, Stan. And I barely even know Wendy that much."

"She always comes back to me in a week," I tell him. "But now… I dunno."

"You're never the one who goes to her?" he asks, giving me a questioning frown.

"No… is that a bad thing?"

"Well… not really, no." He gives a cough as he takes a seat at his computer. "It's just… I dunno. It's always the guy who saves the relationship, isn't it?"

"I didn't know that," I reply honestly, taking a seat on his bed. The blankets are a deep shade of green, which don't help at all since I'm trying to think of Wendy. Instead Kyle in his orange jacket pops into my mind, even though he's literally next to me. "Why?"

"You really are hopeless," says Kyle as he boots his computer. "Guys are supposed to court the girl, not the other way around. If you ask me, I think Wendy's waiting for you to repair things again."

"But she always does it!" I protest, collapsing onto his bed. "Why do I have to do it now?"

"I dunno…. Like I said, I don't really know Wendy." I grumble under my breath, staring wide-eyed into the popcorn ceiling above me. And to think, Kyle's supposed to be the smarter of us… though Ike _was_ the smarter of the two brothers (even if he _is_ adopted). "What was your last fight about?"

"Hm?" I raise an eyebrow, which he responds to by repeating himself. "I dunno… stuff."

I don't want to tell Kyle the real reason. After all, he is a part of the cause, and I'm sure he'd feel guilty if I told him my girlfriend was angry at me being with him more. Even if it isn't his fault, he'd probably suggest some really crappy idea to get me back with Wendy, even if that meant ruining our friendship.

And see, that's the one weird thing about Kyle that I don't understand. I'm supposed to be his Super Best Fried, yet I don't understand why he's always so determined to keep my relationship healthy with Wendy. I'm sure he realizes we've broken up twenty-six times by now, yet he always tells me to do things that'll help me with Wendy. It's not that I don't appreciate what he's doing, because he's being an awesome friend for even helping me in that way. Yet… I don't understand, because Kyle barely knows Wendy, and they usually argue about _everything_ when they're near each other.

Why would Kyle help me?

"Talk to her," Kyle mutters, shrugging his shoulders as he looks in my direction—though I can barely see him from the bottoms of my eyes. "I dunno… get her flowers or something."

"What if I don't want to?" I ask aloud, though my mind doesn't quite want to agree with what I'm saying.

"You'd be a douche, for one," says Kyle, and at this I find myself sitting up once more. "Finding someone who'll love you isn't as easy as you think, Stan…."

There's a distinct tone in his voice, yet it's something I can't place a finger on. So instead, I merely nod in agreement, giving a frustrated sigh as I get off the bed.

"I guess I'll go have a talk with her then," I tell him, giving a shrug. "Nothing else I can really do, no?"

"Don't think so." He frowns before turning back to his computer, logging into the main screen.

"Kyle?"

"Yeah dude?"

"You don't mind that I'm doing this, right…? You know… you seem to be really cool with this."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

I falter for a moment. "Well, I dunno, dude. It's just…." For a moment Wendy's face flashes through my mind, and I can almost imagine her face uttering the words she had said a week ago over the phone. "Don't you ever get…I dunno, jealous?"

He gulps. "N-no… why would I?"

"No reason," I say, sighing in relief. Seriously… why couldn't he be like Wendy? _He _doesn't mind when I spend time with Wendy. Why couldn't Wendy be the same when I'm with Kyle?

"I'll be off," I tell him, giving a salute-like goodbye as I turn to the door. "Later, dude."

"Good luck, Stan…."

And that's exactly what I need, really. Somehow I smell disaster coming near, though I choose not to pay attention to the obvious signs. Perhaps she hadn't come back for a reason. Maybe she wanted her twenty-sixth breakup with me to be our last….

"Flowers," I suddenly find myself muttering, and I hastily turn another direction. Picking flowers out of her garden wouldn't be good, of course, so I'd have to get them fresh from the store.

The door makes a chime as I enter through.

"Hiya, Stan!"

"Er… hey… Butters…." I give the flower boutique a good look. "Er, why are you working at a flower shop, Butters?"

"Mah… mah dad says I gotta make myself a living, or else… or else I won't have money to pay for mah hospital bill when I get infected."

"Infected?" I ask curiously. "With what?"

"S-super Aids," he mumbles quietly. Except, I really don't know what that is, so I go back to wandering around the small shop.

"You think you could give a friend some advice?" Butters looks at me with curiosity, but he says nothing as he comes to my side. "I need flowers for my girlfriend."

"Oh, boy!" he exclaims, and he immediately leads me to a section decorated with little hearts everywhere. And to think I hadn't noticed this before…. "Take your pick! Tulips, roses, daisies, carnations—"

"I'll take the carnations," I mutter quietly, and he excitedly begins picking out flowers to wrap in a bouquet. I return to the counter and take out my wallet, flipping through the wads of paper for the ten-dollar bill I want.

Butters returns later with a goofy grin plastered on his face. "Here ya go, Stan!"

"Thanks," I thank him, and I quickly pay him before exiting through the door. "Keep the change, Butters!"

"Oh boy, you bet I will!"—and that's the last I hear from him.

I'm almost running now. It's not long before I'll get to Wendy's house, not long before I'll have her back, just as things should be….

I pull out my phone and dial Kyle again.

"How'd it go?" is the first thing he asks me. "All good?"

"I haven't done it yet. Kyle, I kinda need your help."

"With what?"

"Well…." I frown for a moment, coming to a halt before crossing the street. "I dunno. What do I say?"

"Just say what comes naturally," he replies, and I make a disgusted noise. "You're right," he adds; "you'd probably just ruin things again."

"Turd," I hiss into the phone, and he laughs. "But seriously, what do I say?"

"Tell her you want her back? I really don't know, Stan. You've done this twenty-five times; shouldn't you know what to do by now?"

"It's my first time, actually," I remind him. "It's always been Wendy before, remember?"

"Right… I forgot." And then I'm at her house, my eyes widened, with butterflies feasting on the nervousness in the pits of my stomach…. "Just… go do it, Stan. I'm sure she won't blast you into the sun if all else fails."

"…I think she would, actually." But Kyle doesn't listen to this argument, and it's not much longer until he hangs up, leaving me to my own worries.

My first instinct is to ring the doorbell. And thankfully, it seems to be the first good move of the day.

"Hey Stan," Wendy says, though her voice is clearly dripping with sarcasm. "Finally decided to show up, didn't you? I think that's love, don't you?"

"Shut up, Wendy," I retort, though I immediately take it back when I see her face. "Listen…. I'm sorry for… for…."

"Smooth, Stan."

"I'm trying my best!" I exclaim, and she jumps in surprise. What, have I never had a spine before? "You have no idea how unnerving this is."

"Geez, Stan, maybe you should do it more often." But the sarcasm in her voice drops the second I give her my best set of puppy eyes, and she encourages me to continue.

"I do love you, Wends," I tell her, allowing myself to act a bit more casually. "It's just… you can't expect me to make that choice. Kyle's as equally important to me as you are. I love him too, Wends, just as much as I love you… though not in _that_ kind of way," I add, taking her funny expression as a bad sign. "I do love you, but… you can't make me make that choice…."

Wendy first stares into my eyes before darting downward, and it's only then when I realize the flowers in my hand. "I'm sorry too, Stan." And without an explanation, she hurls herself at me, and I catch her in my arms as I set my head against her shoulder.

Inside my head, there are two things going through my mind.

_I love you, Wendy_.

_Thank you, Kyle_.

* * *

_Posted: September 1st, 2007_


	6. Dissociated

♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

_Dissociated_

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦

Wendy had been wise enough not to bring up that whole choosing argument of hers. Thank god, too, because even now I'm _still_ not sure what that answer would be. Of course, she probably knew that asking me such a question would only tear us apart again, and for some reason I have a gut feeling she doesn't want that. 

Merely for her sake, I've spent the last two days with her more than Kyle. Kyle completely understands, or at least that's what he tells me; I've only needed to explain to him once that my relationship with Wendy was going to die at almost any second if I didn't do something fast. Needless to say he understood my situation well, and excused my absence from him with reason.

"That's what it should've been since the beginning," he had said. "I really wonder how Wendy puts up with you…."

And that brings me to my date with Wendy. Well, in technicality, it's actually our makeup date—yes, that one, the trip to Shakey's Pizza we were supposed to go on about a week ago. Still, neither of us is complaining, and the hunger factor had been too high to do some other alternative.

"Cheese pizza…" I murmur aloud, and Wendy nods at me. "Well, I guess that's better than vegetarian…." I give my order to the girl in an oversized uniform, and she curtseys curtly before heading away.

"She's flirting with you," Wendy tells me distastefully, shaking her head. "I swear, if she does it again—"

"—relax, Wends, it's not a big deal." Then, of course, seeing her enraged face, I add: "I only take it out of appreciation of my amazing looks. If you ask me, I think I'd know better than to acknowledge the love of a stranger, no?"

"If you say so," she replies, and as if to strengthen her claim she squeezes my arm. Not the kind that makes you wince, yet it's not a pathetic squeeze either… it's what you'd typically do when feeling someone's biceps, I think.

"Still going to your grandmother's?" I ask her in an attempt to spark some conversation. Wendy was to go visit her grandmother that summer, though her reasons were… rather interesting. In a way she wanted to go, yet she wouldn't have gone if it hadn't been for that mandate placed on her.

"Yeah," she utters quietly, her mellowness only proving her dislike of the idea. "I dunno, Stan, I really love and care for her. But it's just… this might be the last time I'll see her. I don't wanna… I don't like good… goodbyes."

"It'll be fine," I tell her reassuringly, and I bring her closer to me to comfort her. "You don't have to make it a goodbye if you don't want to…."

The questioning look on her face isn't encouraging. "I dunno, Wends, just… just think of it as any other visit. You don't have to be sad about it… you know what I mean? Like… be happy, make her laugh, encourage her that it's not goodbye, and tell her you'll see her again…."

"I guess," Wendy replies, shrugging at me. There's really nothing I can think of to say, especially since I don't want to ruin the mood. Yet there's a distinct something in the way she speaks, as if she believes in the words I'm saying. It feels gratifying, especially knowing that I've earned her trust once more, but yet I'm still wishing I could do more for her.

"Here're your drinks!" our waitress exclaims suddenly, placing two cups in front of us. "Anything else I can get you?"

I know that girl is purposefully bending over to expose her cleavage, but I take no notice of it as I shake her off. Wendy seems happy with my reaction, at the very least, and so long as it makes her happy, I don't mind disappointing a stranger.

It's not like I'm really to blame for that, anyway.

At that moment Wendy decides to surprise me with a seemingly out-of-the-blue question. "How's Kyle?"

"Kyle?" I echo, and she nods. "Kyle, I dunno, he's fine, I guess. He really doesn't change much."

"Really?" she asks me, and I'm not sure I like the look on her face. "He seems really down to me."

"What makes you think that?"

"Nothing really," she replies, leaning into my once more. "I saw him with his brother yesterday, and he wasn't exactly smiling."

"He was probably just unhappy having to look after Ike," I reason, giving a shrug. "I dunno, Wends, I don't think anything's wrong with him." Whether she believes me or not I'm not sure, yet even the possibility of not noticing my friend's change in mood… what kind of friend does that make me?

And of course, I find myself reasoning against Wendy's claim, because I'd have failed as his Super Best Friend if he really were sad suddenly. There really wasn't much evidence on Wendy's side, was there? Excluding the story she had just mentioned, but that's merely because he had to look after Ike. Other than that, there's nothing proven, and whenever I talk to Kyle he seems decently normal….

I conclude. There's nothing wrong with Kyle.

Wendy still doesn't seem convinced. "You haven't been hanging out with him in a while, have you?"

"Not really," I admit, sighing to myself. "I'll admit I haven't much… I've been with you a lot."

"Stan…." Her voice is now full of worry, which worries me. It's not often she—well, I take that back. She _often_ worries about me, but I don't think it's ever in _this_ kind of way… if that makes sense. "Back when I said how you're spending more time with him than me… I didn't mean to say you shouldn't spend time with him at all."

"Really?" my mouth seems to spit out, even if I don't want to sound so sarcastically surprised. Though admittedly, I _had_ been under the impression that that was what she had been implying… somewhat. "Well, I guess—"

And again, out of some freakish coincidence, my phone rings.

It's Kyle.

"Sup dude?" I utter into the phone, avoiding Wendy's gaze. It's probably a sincere one, but I'm too afraid to find out.

"Hey Stan," he says weakly, but the tone in his voice strikes some bell inside me. It sounds… well, weak. Not Kyle-like. And the realization that Wendy might be right… well, that isn't sinking in with me too well at all.

"You okay?"

"'course," he says, though I'm sure he probably doesn't mean it. "What're you doing later today?"

"Tonight?" is my echoing response, and he merely affirms me. "I dunno, dude, I'll probably drop off Wendy… dunno after that." As my final words leave my mouth the waitress arrives with the pizza, setting it before us as she talks about random things to Wendy.

"Oh," is all I hear Kyle respond. "You're with Wendy now?"

"Yeah… you know. That make up date I had with her… doing it now."

He laughs quietly, though that doesn't really last too long. The waitress gives me a wink before heading off, and I can distinctively feel Wendy tightening her grip on my arm. "Well, if you're with Wendy…."

Wendy reaches a hand to my opposite cheek and turns my face to her. She gives me this appraising look, and I suppose that, along with a nod of her head, is supposed to tell me what exactly she wants….

"I am with Wendy," I find myself reiterating, and Wendy slaps her head in disappointment. "Here, I think Wendy wants to talk to you."

"What?"—but I force the phone to her ear, and as soon as she speaks into it I grab myself a tasty-looking slice of pizza. I never knew cheese could taste so good….

Wendy's dialogue is quite broken, and it interests me to learn of what Kyle's actually saying to her. Her responses are so… well, not really on topic with my conversation with him. Then again, I guess when a conversation starts with "Hey Kyle, how are you?" things could turn quite differently, depending on the carrier of the topics….

In the end Wendy mutters "It was nice talking to you, I'll tell Stan the plan." before hanging up, leaving me to gaze at her confusedly with cheese dangling from my mouth.

"When we're done you're gonna drop me off," she says, taking a slice of her own; "then you're going to Kyle's house."

"Okay." For a second it crosses my mind to ask her why, but in the end I decide not to. We continue eating our pizza with broken conversation, though no matter what topic we get on, it always seems to succumb to that familiar, unwanted silence.

"Here's your change!" that flirtatious waitress said at long last. "Have a great day!"—and she winks at me before leaving. Sensing that Wendy would probably let go some unnecessary expletives, I quickly bring Wendy to my side, wrapping an arm around her as we headed out the door.

"Thanks, Stan," Wendy mutters weakly once I've started the ignition and left the parking lot. "For this, I mean."

"No problem, Wends," I tell her, giving her a small peck as I turn back to the road. "Anything for you."

"You sound really cheesy," she tells me, poking her tongue out at me.

"Cheesier than the pizza?"

She gives it a thought. "Yes, cheesier than the pizza."

I pout at her.

"Don't be like that! I didn't say I didn't like it!" but I continue to pout nevertheless, and I spend the rest of the car ride teasing her. And though teasing her and driving the car don't exactly go hand in hand, I somehow manage it and end up in front of her house within minutes.

"I'll see you later?" she asks me, and I nod.

"Here, lemme see you in." She nods, and I jump out of my side of the car as I accompany her to her front door, all the while with hands entwined. She leans into me, and I can feel how warm and welcoming her body feels now that the air's cooled down a bit.

It definitely feels nice to have Wendy back.

"See you tomorrow," I whisper into her ear before giving her a quick kiss. She squeezes my hand before I turn away, and I can hear the door swing open and shut as I make my way back to my car.

Admittedly the car ride to Kyle's house is very boring. Night drives are always boring to begin with, especially for the driver; there's never any scenery to look at, and you can't really play music very loudly unless you wanted to wake up the whole neighborhood. Besides, all the radio stations South Park could afford to hear didn't really play that great of music, so it wasn't worth playing so often. Nevertheless I turn on the radio, allowing my ears to be filled merely faintly, and ultimately I decide that it's only five minutes I'd have to endure the trip.

When I get to Kyle's house, I find the lights to his house off—save the one in his bedroom. In a way I feel scared to enter, especially knowing Ike's habits as a recently awakened monster. So instead I decide on calling Kyle's cell phone first, just to make sure that at least he's awake and still wants me here.

"Sup?" I greet him quickly once he picks up. "Your family asleep?"

"Yeah," he replies. "You still with Wendy?"

"No, dude, I'm outside your house." He doesn't immediately respond, though within seconds I see his face popping out of his window.

"So you are," he mutters, stepping back inside his room. "You sure you don't wanna be with Wendy?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" I ask, and he gives some sort of acknowledgement from his end. "Now open up, won't you?"

"Hold on," he says, and with that the line goes dead. I carefully place the phone back in my pocket, and once that's done I wait for Kyle's appearance at the door. Strangely enough, it takes quite a while for him to open the door, though I _do_ remember not to lean on the door this time.

"Took you long enough," I say with a smile the second he opens the door, and he returns the favor. "Can I come inside?"

"Of course." He takes great caution in closing the door quietly after me, and even as he leads me up the stairs he keeps our conversation limited. There are exactly three creaky points to his room, two being on the staircase, and he makes sure I avoid all three before securing the both of us in his room.

"Dunno why everyone's asleep so early," Kyle says as he sits at his computer. "It's summer, for crying out loud. I don't see the logic, really."

"And that rarely happens," I add, leaning over his shoulder. His body gives a slight jerk from our contact, but I merely adjust myself so he's more comfortable. "Anything interesting?"

"Not really," Kyle replies, turning his head to mine. "If you want we can have a go at the Okama Gamesphere. I only have the old games, though."

"That's fine," I tell him, and as he gets up from his seat I situate myself at the foot of his bed. "I'm gonna kick your ass, anyway."

"We'll see," he says, and within moments the game commences. The game turns out to be much more difficult than I imagined it being, and given that I no longer have my own Okama Gamesphere, it appears I've grown quite rusty. Kyle, on the other hand, seems to have mastered it, and even as I find myself getting the hang of the game he's still creaming me at that game.

Yet I don't give up. Of course I don't; my pride's on the line, here! Yet still, there really isn't any way I can win, now…. In fact, it's only after at least fifteen times when I do give in, purposefully ignoring the victorious grin on Kyle's face.

"Okay, you've proven your point… I get it."

"What point?"

I really don't know the proper answer to that, myself. "Uh… that you're better than me?—I dunno." I look up to the ceiling as Kyle joins my side, staring at me expectantly. I turn to him and give him an appraising look, in which he responds to with a mere shrug.

We both stare at the Game Over on the television for quite a long while, allowing the silence to settle around us. With other people I would've thought this to be rather boring, yet for some reason with Kyle I don't mind. I'm not grinning madly, yet inside I feel satisfied, and I'm sure Kyle is too.

That's probably one of the strangest things about my friendship with Kyle. It's so different than my relationship with Wendy; with her it's almost like I have to go out of my way to enjoy myself with her. But not with Kyle. No; with him, it always seems to come naturally.

The next time Kyle looks at me, I flash him a kind smile. "Still got my toothbrush?"

He nods. "Of course, why?"

"Sleeping over, just like old times; what's it look like?" He shakes his head in my direction, and as I leave the room he follows after me.

We wind down in silence, and within moments we're back in his room, Kyle against the headboard while I'm snuggling the pillows at the foot of his bed.

"Good night, Kyle," I mutter before enveloping my vision in the vastness of my dreams.

I think he mutters something after me, but I don't catch what he says.

* * *

_Posted: September 15th, 2007_


	7. Noticeable

♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

_Noticeable_

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦

I guess you could say there are many types of love. There's true love, which probably doesn't exist normally in the real world. Then there's fairytale love, where Prince charming goes after the princess and they live happily ever after without divorce. Then there's abusive love, which I guess is what Kenny's parents give him (though I probably shouldn't be saying that aloud). There's also best friend love, which Kyle and I give each other very often. Then there's complicated love, but that's… well, complicated.

Then, there's love with Wendy, which is an odd mix of all kinds of love. And I'm almost positive that combination is responsible for my quickness in offering to fix her toilet when it breaks.

"Just give me the day," I tell her, bending over to see the cause. It doesn't look too bad; the toilet won't flush, but other than that it seems remotely fine…. "If I'm not done by the end of today you should probably call a repairman."

"Thank you!" she exclaims, and she comfortingly rubs my back in appreciation. "I'll be back in a bit… and try not to miss me too much while I'm gone?"

"I won't," I reply with a smile, and I give her a quick kiss. "Call me if you need me."

"I will," she says, and with a quick wave she's out the door. I stare blankly at the doorframe for several moments, as if expecting her to come back, but when my mind resolves that she won't come back, I turn back to the toilet. I'm really not sure what I can do with it, really, seeing as I'm not exactly the best mechanic around. In fact I'm hardly even a mechanic, but saying no to Wendy… probably wouldn't have produced the best results, either.

"A bit sappy, don't you think?"

I turn to Kyle. "The toilet?"

"No, you." I shake my head; I had forgotten he was there. After all, we had both been in my room when Wendy called. If I hadn't drove him to my house he probably wouldn't be here with me; he insisted I go straight to Wendy's instead of dropping him home.

"Toilets can't be sappy, Stan," Kyle tells me, as if he's reminding me of something we learned at school.

"Probably not," I reply, smiling weakly at him. But my mind's on two other things: the toilet, and the guilt of having to bring Kyle along. "You know," I begin, taking a seat against the wall. "I'm sorry for bringing you here. You must be bored out of your mind."

"I opted to come," he tells me, giving appraising looks at the toilet. "Besides, what's so boring about a… a toilet."

I laugh at the question… or what's supposed to be one, anyway. "Good call." I sigh, tapping the toilet once. There's a silence between us; there really isn't much interesting about a toilet. It definitely wasn't this awkward when I was creaming him at Super Smash Bros. a few hours ago.

"So uh…. I'm not sure what to do about this toilet." I pout at him, and though he looks away he scoffs at my foolishness.

"Fix it?" he suggests, and I roll my eyes. "What else did you have in mind?"

"I… I dunno." Leave it to Kyle to give the bluntest answer. "I guess we could fix it, though I really don't know how." Kyle frowns and makes his way to the toilet, giving it a good inspection as I look to the ceiling. Once again, popcorn ceiling. Is there really any other kind?

"Have you checked your email lately?"

My gaze is removed from the ceiling. Weren't we just talking about the toilet? "No… I never check it."

"Oh." I frown as he looks away, frowning even more so as he takes much interest in his reflection in the mirror. "Well, if you put it that way…."

It's very much random on his part, as I continue to stare at him I find myself frowning. I guess for his sake I'll go check my email, yet… it's still quite random…. Though, of course, I don't mind the change in topic; talking about toilets ends up being quite lame, anyway.

"I'll check it when I get home," I tell him softly, giving a shrug as he turns back to me. "I mean, only if you really want me to."

"No, don't worry about it," he mutters; "it wasn't important anyway. I was just curious."

"If you say so…." I give a sigh, turning back to the toilet.

Silence.

I sigh, uttering the only thing I can think of. "Now how about fixing this toilet, huh?" Kyle nods nonchalantly, and we set upon figuring out a way to fix Wendy's toilet. In the end it was pretty much Kyle who did everything—he's the one who figured out how to fix it. The only thing I did was to go get stuff from the nearest hardware store… which was quite far, since there's only one in South Park.

Wendy hasn't arrived when we finish, so we wait in her living room. Thanks to the courtesy of her dad, we're sitting in front of the television with ESPN booming into our ears, and a few glasses of water are sitting on the table in front of us. There are recaps of most sports on the screen, though it isn't long before I've lost interest in it.

What does interest me, though, is Kyle. For some reason he's grown rather quiet; I don't really remember when it happened, either. I hadn't even noticed he started talking less often, not until I ran out of things to do… but when had he grown quiet?

"You okay?" I ask him, nudging his side. But the only expression I get out of him is a curious look. "Sorry, just… just curious… you were really quiet."

"And that has to mean something's wrong with me?"

"Well no, just… I dunno." I heave a sigh and grumble under my breath; it _had_ been a random revelation… maybe I was just imagining things. But Super Best Friends have very good instincts, and my instincts are screaming _there's-something-wrong-with-Kyle-so-do-something_!

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he replies, and I give him one last hopeful glance before turning back to the TV. No baseball game's results are going to tear me away from the boy sitting next to me. For all I know I could just be saying there's something troubling him, just to justify his silence, and though that seems like something I'd do… I'm almost positive I'm right.

Another ten minutes goes by without him talking. I turn to him and frown; I wonder if he's truly okay. Better yet, I wonder what he's thinking of. His eyebrows are furrowed, as if he's concentrating hard on something. That, or he's awfully angry with someone in the distance, but I doubt that's it. But it's the summertime, and there's really nothing worth concentrating hard on, so….

Maybe he's just worried about the toilet? After all, we haven't exactly tried it.

I give him a friendly wave before leaving to Wendy's restroom. It's not like I have to do any functions in here, really, so instead of taking off my pants like I normally would I merely reach over and press the flushing-thing once.

I stare intently at it. The water drains away, everything seems to be going fine… and then everything _is_ fine….  
The toilet works.

"It works," I tell Kyle as I return to the living room. "The toilet," I add when I receive a confused look; "it works."

"Okay," he replies weakly, turning back to the television, unfazed.

So it wasn't the toilet, then….

I turn back to the television, which is now on Comedy Central. Maybe _this_ was it? Maybe he didn't like watching ESPN?—but that reasoning is just as poor as my other one about the toilet, but nevertheless I ask him anyway.

"There's nothing wrong with me, dude," he insists, and we leave it at that. Sure, I'm not convinced, but there's nothing I can do now, really.

Wendy comes back twenty minutes later, completely breaking the silence between us. She attends to me first, and we embrace in a rather lengthy hug, and afterward she greets Kyle, who seems to have the most peculiar expression on his face. She gives him a quick hug before addressing us.

"Did you fix my toilet?" she asks, and Kyle gives a stiff nod. However, she's looking at me when she asks, so I merely mirror his notion. "Thank you, Stan! You have no idea how much—"

"I didn't do much," I murmur, right as she's about to leap into my embrace yet again. "Kyle's the one who figured it out." Wendy looks over at Kyle, who's turned a deep red at the attention. I give a low chuckle as Wendy turns to thank Kyle, and he merely turns even redder as she faces the both of us.

"Thanks again," she tells me. "So…. I guess I'll be seeing you later then, Stan?"

I give her a frowning look. "Am I leaving?"

"Well, if you want… I kinda figured you were, though. I mean, I'm sure you weren't just staring at your phone, _waiting_ for me to call, right?"

"Well no… I guess." Was this Wendy trying to get rid of me? Or maybe I'm looking too much into this…. "I'll call you later then?" She gives a stiff nod, and to break the awkwardness I step forward and give her a hug.

"I'm glad you're spending more time with him," she says quietly into my ear, and she gives me a smile before turning to Kyle. But I'm not really listening to what she's said; my mind's still on her words. And there lies my confusion; it wasn't too long ago when she seemed so distressed at the fact that I was spending more time with Kyle, and now… and now she's _encouraging_ me to spend more time with Kyle.

It makes no sense to me. But I don't bother thinking about the reasoning behind that for too long.

"Stan!" Wendy yells at me, and I spin on the spot. "Stan, you okay? You blanked out on me, there."

"…sorry, Babe. Just thinking about stuff."

She nods believingly. "Anyway, I won't keep you any longer. Have fun, the both of you."

"Right… I'll call you." But she already knows that, and as I motion to Kyle we both leave her house. She smiles at us before closing the door in front of our faces. I turn to Kyle, who's staring at his feet, and with high spirits I pat him on the back playfully.

"Feeling up for a guys' night out?" I ask him, and though I'm talking to him he still doesn't look at me. Nothing's wrong with him… yeah right. "You, me, Kenny?—and maybe Cartman."

"No Cartman," he mutters, and he walks off. "I dunno, Stan, I'm a little tired."

"Dude! It's only…." I turn to my watch. "…it's not even six, yet!"

"I'm tired, Stan."

I shake my head. "Come on, dude, we're all going out. Besides, you could use the cheering up."

Oops. Bad move.

"Stan, there is _nothing_ wrong with me! I don't need to be fucking cheered up!"

I hold my hands out in defense. "Whoa, dude, sorry… I didn't mean to… just chill." I grumble under my breath; from the corner of my eye I could've sworn seeing Wendy peering through the blinds of the window…. "Let's get to the car at least, okay? From there we can figure things out."

He nods quietly and follows behind me. I _know_ there's something wrong with him, despite how much he denies it. In a way it hurts, knowing that he doesn't trust his Super Best Friend enough to share his thoughts, but… I can't go around expecting him to. But if there's one thing I know… it's that no "okay" person sulks around everywhere while practically going mute.

I pull out of the driveway and head to Kenny's. And my course of travel definitely does not go unnoticed.

"Stan, I don't wanna go."

"Come on, Kyle, just come with us. It'll be great! Besides, you haven't seen Kenny in a while."

"Yes I have, Stan. Just because you haven't been to his house with me in a while doesn't mean I haven't seen him at all." I think Kyle's glaring at me at this point, though I'm not sure if I want to check. His voice sounds angry, at least… maybe just irritated.

"Kyle…."

"Just take me home, Stan."

And reluctantly, I turn the car around. I don't look at Kyle as I'm doing so; I'm scared to see his face, scared to find out if I've angered him. The ride to his house is especially silent, and though I feel tempted to take one look, just one glance of reassurance to make sure he's all right….

We get to his house.

"Stan…?" he mumbles, but I don't turn to him. "Stan, are you mad at me?"

"No… not really…." I pause for a moment. "…are you mad at me?"

"No…." Silence. At least we've gotten this far… but when exactly did our friendship take such a sudden turn?  
…I'm confused.

"I'm sorry," I decide to mutter at last. "Sorry for being such a persistent bastard."

"Don't worry about it," he says. "I'm sorry for being killjoy."

"You're not being killjoy, dude, I understand. I have to feed Sparky, anyway…. And I'm sorry for accusing you of…." I can't find the proper wording. "Sorry for thinking there was something wrong with you."

"Yeah… sorry." Why exactly we've suddenly gone apologizing for pretty much everything, I'm not sure…. And all because of a toilet, too. Or at least I think.

"I'll see you around, then," I tell him, extending my hand. He looks at it curiously, as if unsure with what to do about it. "Erm, you shake it…. Uh, only if you want to. One handshake for friendship?"

"Oh. Right." He blushes furiously as he takes my hand and shakes it firmly. "Anyway… later, Stan."

I blink. "Wait… Kyle?"

"Yeah?"

I look away as the words come out of my mouth. "You'd tell me if something was bothering you, wouldn't you?"

He merely stares at me—a stupid question on my part. I dunno; the fact that he has to think about it hurts me somewhat, yet I don't take it to heart. Besides, even if he's hesitant of the question, I'm sure I know what the end answer will be, anyway….

"Of course, dude."  
And then he's off.

I watch him as he enters his house, and for moments after he's gone I stare at the doorframe. My mind's convinced; there's something bothering him. Yet thinking about it, as I've found out, won't do anything, so instead I let it go and drive away.

…of course, I've already said I'd let it go, and yet it still bugs me….

I pull out my phone and browse my address book. I scroll down the names to find Wendy's number; now that I'm not doing anything, I might as well spend the rest of the night with her….

I put the phone to my ear and wait for her to pick up.

"_You haven't seen Kenny in a while." _

"Hey Stan!"

"_Yes I have, Stan. Just because you haven't been to his house with _me_ in a while doesn't mean I haven't seen him at all."_

"Stan?"

Maybe… just maybe….

"Stan, are you there?"

I hang up. There's someone else I want to see.

* * *

_Posted October 3rd, 2007._

_Two assumptions are made in this chapter. First, toilets are easily fixed. Second, Wendy's parents are not divorced or dead.  
_


	8. Pretend

♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

_Pretend_

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦

I tap on the window once.

No answer.

I sigh, closing my eyes as I lean against the wall. Maybe Kenny isn't home.

"_You'd tell me if something was bothering you, wouldn't you?"  
"Of course, dude."_

But would he really? Only moments ago I wouldn't have doubted this sentence, but suddenly… but suddenly it feels like he's changed. Like something just… _happened_ to him, something I can't place my finger on. And the part that hurts is that this change probably isn't as random as it looks like, and it's only taken me now to realize.

But then… whatever's wrong with him can't be _that_ bad enough to not tell me… could it?

"_Don't tell anyone, pwease?"_

It almost feels like yesterday when Kyle had said those words to me… yet it had been so, so long ago. But for some reason, as the wind hits my face, those are the words that resound inside my head.

"_Why not?"_

"_I want this to be our secret. Pwease?"_

"_But… but I'm not sure I can. It's so nice—"_

"_Stan, I want this between you and me, only. You're my best friend, right? You can keep this secret for me, right?"_

The image of a hill is imprinted in my mind. _"Kyle, of—"_

"Stan!" calls a voice, and my eyes snap open—Kenny. "Stan, you knocked? I've only been trying to get your attention for the past minute, now."

"Oh… sorry." He takes my apology, nodding, and he steps to the side so I can climb through the window. In the distance I can hear his parents bickering about something again. I try my best not to eavesdrop, but with the volume of their voices that proves quite hard; I can faintly hear the words "job" and "bacon" being used quite frequently, all expletives aside.

"Haven't been 'round in a while," Kenny says, flopping onto his bed as it creaks. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me."

"Sorry," I apologize yet again. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. "I've been busy."

"With Wendy, yeah, I get it." I stare at him accusingly, to which he merely smirks. "Either her or Kyle."

"Not true," I say quietly. "Besides, you're welcome at my house at any time. You know that."

"Yeah…." A silence falls between us. I take a seat on his bed and lie down, my eyes staring into the white above me. The only thing I can really hear is the shouting in the distance, where an angry Mr. McKormick has just called his wife a "dirty mother-fucking irresponsible cunt-face."

"So what's up?" Kenny asks me as the bed creaks again. "I mean, I'm sure you didn't just randomly decide to climb in through my window, did you?"

I shake my head and heave a sigh. "No, not really, I didn't. But uh…." I focus in on the inconsistencies of the ceiling above me. "Shit, Ken, I forgot, I need to feed Sparky…. Wanna come back to my place?"

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Thought you'd never ask, Stanley."

I roll my eyes: there's the Kenny I know. Yet for some reason it feels like I haven't heard one of his innuendos for quite a while… actually, I think it _has_ been longer than I thought. "I'm feeding Sparky, not your sex drive. And I'm only bringing you along because… well, I need someone to talk to."

"Aw," begins Kenny, looking dejected yet foolish. "So I'm being used, huh? What, did Kyle not want to be your Super Best Friend, anymore…?" I look away nervously; no, that isn't it. Yet I'm scared it might come to that, eventually….

"You can't talk about your problems to someone… when the person you usually confide in is involved…." His lips form an 'oh' as he steps away, nodding his head quietly. I'm not sure if he's got any idea what's going on in my mind, but he definitely acts like he knows what I'm worried about.

And see, that's the thing about Kenny. He understands people. And more than understanding people's sex appeal, too. Kenny's actually not as big as a man-whore as he makes himself to be. In all seriousness, he understands when a joke isn't quite appropriate for a situation, and he knows when to not say something that may hurt someone he cares about.

…the key words being _whom he cares about_, hence why he couldn't give two shits about Cartman.

"You drove, right?" he asks, and I nod. "Okay. Wanna get going, then?"

I frown. "Shouldn't you tell your parents you're leaving?"

"Nah, they won't know I'm gone." I shoot Kenny one last glance before climbing through the window, landing almost perfectly on my feet. Kenny slides through soon after, and together we climb into our car.

I let Kenny choose the radio station—it's extremely short of a ride, anyway. I try not to think about Kyle too much as I drive, but I can't help but to wonder what's happened that's caused him to seem so distant so suddenly….

I can hear Sparky barking through the door as I fish for my keys, and Kenny laughs as Sparky runs past me when the door opens. It takes a good two minutes to get him to calm down; Kenny's already gone inside to fetch Sparky's food, and by the time I enter the kitchen, Sparky content in my arms, Kenny's gotten the small bits of dog food into his bowl.

"A pro in the making, aren't we?" I tell him with a smirk, and he shrugs it off. "Professional dog feeder. Fun profession, wouldn't you agree?"

"Suppose it could be an interesting part-time," he replies coyly, watching Sparky nibble at his food. "Anyway, you had something to tell me?"

I blink. "Oh right… Kyle…." A silence befalls us as I try to word things properly in my head. Where to start?—would I sound sane if I just ranted at him, expecting him to understand where I was coming from? "I'm worried about him."

"So am I."

I blink in surprise. "What?"

"He doesn't get out much," Kenny says, suddenly laughing to himself. "Then again, neither do I… but I dunno. I'm guessing that's not why you're worried about him." I shake my head to affirm his assumption. "Here, take a seat."

I watch him as he pats down a chair at the dining table. "Telling me to sit down in my own house?" I ask with a laugh, and he merely smirks. "Fine, I will tell Dr. McKormick my problems, if that's what you want."

"Indeed." He gives me a thorough stare. "Now get to it." I sigh, looking at Sparky. He seems content. Why couldn't I be as worry-free as him? Stupid humans had to go along and actually think about other people….

"He's suddenly become really quiet," I mutter, looking to Kenny for an encouraging reaction.  
He gives me none.

"I dunno what it is, Ken, and I'm supposed to be his Super Best Friend! I'm supposed to _get_ him; I'm supposed to understand everything he goes through. Yet I feel like he's hiding things from me.'

"Maybe he is," Kenny says quietly. "What I'm curious about is… you've only noticed it just now?"

"Just now," I repeat. "Have you noticed anything?"

"I haven't seen him since you brought him—he brought you—to my house, Stan." I gape at this; hadn't Kyle yelled at me for that same assumption? And along he really _hadn't_ seen Kenny since I went with him…. Then why did he have to make such a big deal out of what I had said…?

"What if…?" I don't want to complete that sentence. But it's a truth I know might actually be real, and the more I think about it the more it fits. Yet it's a truth I don't want to acknowledge…. "Maybe he's always been like this?"

"What?"

"Like… maybe I only noticed it just now? Maybe all this time he's been getting worse, and maybe I've just been a bad friend to not have noticed it until it became so drastic…."

Kenny places a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Stan…."

"Does he even consider me his Super Best Friend, anymore? Does that even mean anything to him?"

"Does it mean something to you?"

"Of course it does!" I exclaim, looking at Kenny with an enraged face. How could he even suggest…? "Ken… he's the best friend I've ever had! He's one of the few people that gets me—him and Wendy—and, and… of _course_ him being my Super Best Friend means something to me! But… but….

"But what if it's one-sided?" I manage to say at last, and the words echo in the now silent air. Sparky tries filling that void with a couple of barks, but they do no good; Kenny is giving me this sympathetic look, a look that suggests that it might just be the truth, as much as he might be against it, too.

…I'm really bad at reading people, apparently.

"Fucking hell, Stan, you and I both know that's not true."

Sparky barks a couple of times, as if agreeing with Kenny.

"Maybe he was just having a bad day, Stan. I mean, if you've only noticed it today, maybe it's because it's only _started_ today. Maybe it's just a family argument or something." He gives me a warming smile as he helps me back to my feet. "Just because he's angry doesn't mean it's about you."

"But…." I stare at a painting in our dining room table; I think it's one of Van Gogh's. "If it's nothing to do with me, why won't he tell me what's wrong…?"

"Maybe he just doesn't want to talk about it," Kenny suggests. I add nothing to this comment; he should be able to tell me anything…. "Anyway, feel like going over to his house?"

I stare blankly at him.  
He merely continues.

"I haven't seen him in a while, and I thought I could possibly pay a visit. Besides, if he's really bothering you that much, you can go see him for yourself. Make him happier, whatever it is you wanna do."

"I guess," I mutter, looking around for my keys. I suppose going over to Kyle's house wouldn't be a bad idea at all. Though, I'm not exactly sure if we'll actually be welcome or not, granted that he's "tired" and "didn't feel like hanging out with Kenny and me."

"Let's go, then," I tell him and his face lights up like a little child's. "If you want, you can grab a few granola bars from the pantry. You know… if you're hungry or anything."

"Not really, but thanks." He looks to Sparky as I spot my keys on the table. "Don't forget about Sparky, dude."

"Right," I say, giving a thankful nod in Kenny's direction. After tying Sparky's leash to a chair I lead Kenny out of the door, locking it behind me. For the second time the two of us embark on a short car ride, and throughout the ride thoughts of Kyle run through my mind. It's only been an hour two since I last saw him, yet it feels like it's been forever…. I hope he's all right.

"Stan… you missed his house."

Fuck.

It takes about three houses for me to figure out a U-Turn is in order, and another two houses to actually initiate that turn. Kenny looks at me curiously as I properly park the car in front of his house, and I give him a frustrated sigh before getting out of the car.

"Stan… I think I should be asking if _you're_ all right."

"What?—I'm fine!"

He shrugs. "You might be worrying too much about this. I'm sure Kyle doesn't want you doing that…." His train of thought trails off as we reach his door. Kenny mutters something I can't understand under his breath, but before I can ask him what he'd said, Kyle's mother's voice rings from the other side.

"Be right there," she yells, and within five seconds the door opens. "Well hello, Stan—and Kenny's with you too!"

"How're you, Mrs. Broflovski?" Kenny says politely, and he receives a response just as polite. "Is Kyle around?"

"He's in his room, I'll go call him if you'd like." Kenny nods as his mother calls Kyle's name throughout the house. "Come on, come inside."

We obey her orders and take off our shoes at the door. Somewhere upstairs I can hear Ike fuming about something, but I'm not sure what it is he's so angry about. Yet despite Ike's rambling there's no response from upstairs. "Don't think he can hear me," Mrs. Broflovski tells us, as if knowing that her voice is impossible to _not_ hear. "You're welcome to check on him, though."

And we do exactly that. Up the stairs, past the creaking step, down the hall….

"Kyle?" Kenny asks, knocking on the door. "Kyle, you in there?" At least I know why he wasn't answering his mom, though; there's blaring music from his side of the door, and it's almost impossible to tell if he can even hear Kenny knocking on the door. Though, I'm not sure when he started listening to loud rock music….

"Is it locked?" I ask, reaching for the door, but Kenny grips my hand.

"It'd be rude to barge in," Kenny says, and I nod. "Kyle, you—?" The door opens before Kenny can finish his sentence, and Kyle stares at us blankly before stepping out of the doorframe.

He looks… different. His hair is unkempt—more disheveled than normal, at least—and he's wearing rather loose clothing. It kind of looks like he's been sleeping, except his eyes don't really match his appearance; they're quite alert and awake, and they prance quickly from me to Kenny and back.

"Are you coming in?" he asks quietly, and we step inside before he shuts the door. "What brings you guys here?" he asks, looking at Kenny as he speaks.

"Haven't seen you in a while," Kenny replies, and Kyle gives me a quick glance. Somehow I think we're both on the same wavelength, but I pretend I have no idea what Kyle's panicked glance meant. "How've you been, though? You look…."

"Tired?" Kyle suggests, and Kenny nods. "I've been trying to sleep, but I can't. You know when you're body feels so tired yet your mind won't let you sleep?"

"Yeah, I get how that works… lots of things to think about, huh?" Kyle immediately turns red at the thought, and for whatever reason he turns his back on the both of us.

"Maybe…" is all he says. Kenny looks to me with a smirk, except I've no idea what's just happened. Somehow I think Kenny knows something I don't…. "Anyway, you guys want something to eat? Something to drink?"

"Water," Kenny mumbles. I echo his response. "But I'll go get them."

"You sure?"

Kenny nods. "Yeah, dude, it's cool. Besides, you're mom's cool. But uh…." He gives a pause. "What'd you want?"

"Water's fine," Kyle says, and with that Kenny leaves the room.

…and that leaves Kyle and me.

I think Kenny did that on purpose, now I think about it. But I mean the odd thing is… it's not like this awkwardness between us has to happen. I don't even know the details of this whole situation, really. All I know is that Kyle randomly got uneasy around me….

"Listen…." He doesn't look at me, even as I address him. I really wish I knew what had happened….

I tell him my thoughts. I tell him how I don't know what's up with him, how he's suddenly grown quiet around me. I ask him if there's something I'm doing wrong, if there's something that's bothering him I can help him with. And of course, he gives the same answer he did earlier.

"There's nothing wrong with me."

"Then why are you being like this?" I persist, my voice rising slightly. "If there's nothing wrong, why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you."

"Why aren't you looking at me?"

I think I've hit home. He doesn't respond, merely continuing in staring at the wall. I can't tell if he's smiling, crying, frowning… yet I hope I haven't upset him. That's the last thing I want to do to him….

"Stan, can we drop this? Please?" His voice is hitched; at least he isn't angry at me. But if he cries….

"Kyle, look at me…." I walk toward him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and he reluctantly turns around; his eyes are watery. "I know something's up. You can't even look at me properly, Kenny's smiling like he knows something… hell, Wendy's even been encouraging me to spend more time with you. It's like everyone knows something that I don't.

"And I understand if it's something you can't tell me and though it hurts to know you can't trust me with anything, I… I… I dunno. But… if you aren't going to tell me what's wrong, at least _convince_ me that there's nothing I need to worry about?"

"Stan…." He's avoiding eye-contact with me. "I'm fine. Really."

I guess I'm doomed to never find out, huh…?

"I hope so," I tell him, and I smile. "Handshake for friendship?" I ask, extending my arm.

"Again?" he asks, frowning. "What… is this some new thing I'm not aware of?"

"Not really," I say with a chuckle, "but it'd be nice to give your Super Best Friend some love, you know?" He laughs along, and though he doesn't look at me we engage in a handshake. It ends with a hug on my part, and though he's standing awkwardly against me I merely pull him closer.

"It hurts to see you like this," I whisper into his ear, and he cringes slightly. I guess that's my fault, though, for being in his personal space and all…. "So we're cool?"

"I guess," is his response.

And with perfect timing, Kenny comes through the door with drinks. The little bastard; he was probably listening in on us from outside.

"There're yours," he says, and we all drink some water from the cup.

"Thanks," I tell him, and then I look to Kyle. He catches my gaze but looks away quickly; however, within seconds he turns back to me and laughs when I cast a smile in his direction.

I think he's trying, at least.

"So…" I begin, looking toward Kyle's television. "Anyone want to challenge the king at the Okama Gamesphere? And believe me, the king shows no mercy."

"In that case, you're gonna lose pretty harshly."

I smirk. "You're on."

* * *

_Posted October 9th, 2007._


	9. Normalcy

♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

_Normalcy_

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦

I can hear something. A noise. Something I can't recognize. And it's almost like it's calling my name. But I don't want to get up; I don't want to figure out what it is. I've heard it so many times, in the middle of so many nights, and I'm scared I might actually find out….

But nevertheless I open my eyes. I push myself up to an upright position; I pull myself out of bed.

I catch a glimpse of Sparky on my way out the door. There's something odd about him; he's not panting like he usually does. He's not greeting me. He's staring blankly at me, his tail unmoving, and his tongue inside his mouth. The only thing that does greet me is the orbs of his eyes, which are shining faintly from the moonlight….

I shake off this thought and ignore Sparky. Instead I find my way to the door, and with each step toward it I find myself trembling all the more. It's like my body's telling me not to go, yet my curiosity causes me to ignore all the signals I'm receiving. I can feel myself tremble against the doorknob; I'm scared I might actually find out the source of the noise.

Eventually I outgrow my fear. I open the door and step through the doorframe.

And I fall. But not immediately. Yet it happens, inevitably, and though I helplessly try to latch onto to something, I only continue to fall. I yell out names—Kyle, Wendy, mom, and even Sparky—but no one hears me. No one replies to me. The only thing I can do is fall and hope for an end, a bottom….

And then… I stop.

But it's no longer dark. Yet I'm no longer falling; my arms are still spread open, but I can see my surroundings now, very much different than the ones before….

I haven't found the bottom. I've found reality.

It couldn't have been anything but a dream, though. After all, I had slept at Kyle's house that night, along with Kenny. Not to mention I had slept on the floor. And there was no Sparky in Kyle's room.

But as if the whole situation couldn't have been more embarrassing… as I open my eyes I find the worried faces of Kyle and Kenny peering at me.

"Bad dream?" asks Kenny innocently, roughing me in the shoulder. I choose not to answer, instead rising to a sitting position. I can feel my sweaty palms against the sheets, and I don't even have to feel my head for myself to realize there's also beaded sweat lining my forehead.

…why did this have to happen in Kyle's house? Let alone in his bed? But as I give Kenny a rather platonic answer, it makes me wonder if I would've had this nightmare had I taken the floor.

"If not a bad dream then _what_, I wonder." Kenny gives a sigh, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. "Though, I suppose it's not really my place to ask, is it? I mean after all, your dreams are your own…."

"He's just worried about you," says Kyle, looking me in the eye. "I am too. But I guess you really didn't want us to see you like that."

"Yeah," I reply with a chuckle, "it _is_ a little embarrassing." Kenny nods, and we fall into silence. I think we're all suffering the same problem, trying to figure out what to do or say. Maybe eating breakfast would be a good start, but it's not my house and I wouldn't want to just _ask_ for food. We could also play video games maybe, but I think our eyes are a little too tired for that, still….

"I'm gonna go see what Ike's up to," Kenny says abruptly, and before anyone can stop him he's out the door. Kyle and I continue to sit in silence for a few moments, but it's not long before Kyle turns to me.

He's wearing a worried expression on his face. "I hope Ike's not asleep. Otherwise he's gonna _murder_ Ken for waking him up."

I nod in agreement, falling back down onto the bed. "If you knew I was having a nightmare… why didn't you wake me up?"

Kyle turns away, giving what looks like a subtle shrug. "We didn't know what to do, I guess. I'd just come out of the shower when Ken came and told me you were moving restlessly in bed. Then he brought me over and you began… well, screaming."

"I was screaming?" I ask in disbelief and Kyle nods. "Ike wouldn't be asleep, then."

"You weren't that loud," Kyle replies admittedly, "but you were still screaming. And then I asked him if we should wake you up, but he told me not to. In the end we just waited until you snapped out of it." He gave a small nod, turning back to me. "But uh, just out of curiosity… you okay, Stan? You weren't dreaming about—"

"I'm fine, Kyle," I interrupt, and he gives me a frowning look. "Really, I am."

"Doesn't _that_ sound familiar," he says sarcastically, scoffing. I merely glare at him, which he merely returns. "Okay, okay, fine, I believe you. I'm just worried, that's all."

"Thanks for caring about me," I tell him softly, to which he turns away abruptly. I look at him curiously. "Did I say something wrong?"

He stumbles on his next words. "No, no, uh… I thought I heard something." I don't respond, taking the moment to listen. I don't really hear anything, really…. "Thought I heard something, that's all."

"Feel like going to Ike's?" I ask suddenly, and he gives me a hesitant look. "Oh come on, Kenny would've been murdered by now if Ike had been asleep."

"He might've been murdered and resurrected," Kyle suggests, but I don't listen. Getting out of bed, I grab Kyle by the sleeve and drag him outside his room. Granted that he's a lot heavier since the last time I had to support his weight when going somewhere, but time tends to do that….

A knock of the door and we're in Ike's room.  
And the first thing I see is a pillow flying right at me.

"Stanley Marsh, I'm going to fucking kill you!" I can see Ike's mouth move as he says these words, yet for someone with such threatening… threats… he hasn't left his bed. I would've thought he'd at least reach his fingers around my throat. "You had to go screaming, didn't you?"

"Don't take it out on him," Kyle mumbles, and it seems that now _he's_ the one dragging _me_ around. "He's had a rough night."

"Clearly," the younger boy mumbles, resting his head at Kenny's feet. "Fuck, it's too early to be up."

"Agreed," says Kenny, which earns a scowl on Kyle's part.

"What the hell, you woke up on your own! Why the hell are you complaining?"

Kenny shakes his head and a finger. "Your shower woke me up, Kyle. Not to mention a hungry stomach."

"You hungry?" asks Ike, to which Kenny responds affirmatively. "I'm no cook, but I'll see what I can do."

"Don't use the stove!" Kyle reminds his brother, but I don't think Ike really heard him. He and Kenny walk out of the room, and soon it's just Kyle and me again. "Damn, mom's gonna kill him if he uses the stove."

"He won't burn down the house," I assure him, and he nods quietly. "Anyway, what're your plans for today?"

"Plans?" he echoes. "Well… I dunno. I gotta start my summer homework soon, though."

"Wanna work on it together?" I offer, though mostly for my own sake. There are at least two pages in the math packet that I don't understand at all. Not. At. All.

Kyle shrugs and nods, to my relief. Not that I'm using him or anything, but it _is_ rather nice to have a genius friend… it comes in handy. Let alone a genius Super Best Friend. "Thanks Kyle!" I say cheerily, and I give him a hug. Probably not a good move, though, because he quickly retreats and turns away.

"Personal space," he mumbles, and I apologize quickly. "Anyway, wanna go see if Ike's burned down the house, yet?"

"We'd probably know by now," I tell him, and I absentmindedly sniff the air. Nothing, really. "But sure, why not?" We quickly leave Ike's room in silence, and the lack of an acrid greeting gives Kyle great relief. We both skip the creaking step as we make our way downstairs and into the kitchen, where Ike's rummaging through the pantry. Kenny's sitting patiently at the table as he watches Ike with great interest.

"So _that's_ why the house hasn't caught on fire yet!" Kyle says jokingly; "he hasn't figured out what to cook then. I still have time to figure out my epitaph!"

"Funny," sneers Ike before turning to Kenny. "The only cereal we have is this oatmeal stuff."

"That's not oatmeal," Kyle reminds Ike, but he ignores this. When Kenny settles with the oatmeal, Ike takes it out. "You want anything?" Kyle asks me, and I shake my head.

"Not really. I'm not into kosher stuff."

"Not everything in here is kosher!" he snaps, giving me a pout as he points at some boxes of food. "Stereotypical anti-Semitic—"

"Are you suggesting I'm Cartman?" I ask him, advancing in his direction. "Are you saying I'm fat?"

"You're skinny as hell."

"You're the fucking stick, Kyle!"

"Only girls care about how thin they are."

"You're calling me a girl?" And with that I dive in. Some time ago I found out his ticklish spots; I mercilessly attack those areas, and soon he's squirming from the tickling, backing into a wall as he tries defending himself. "Take it back, Broflovski."

"Stan—ah, stop!—I won't—ah!"

"Say it!" But he only breaks into even more laughter, falling to the floor. "Take back what you said."

"He can't exactly say anything with you doing that," Kenny says, frowning at us. I frown at him, but the lost time is enough for Kyle to react. He lurches forward and grasps my right leg, and he pulls me down so that I topple on top of him.

"What the—?" but he merely smirks, and somehow I end up on the floor. He gets on top of me, and all I see is a devious smirk plastered on his face before—

"Ah, Kyle, stop!"  
Kyle's revenge.

From the corner of my eye I can see Kenny laughing hysterically at us. The damned bastard, can he not see my pain? Ike's just shaking his head, turning away to do something as Kyle assaults me with his hands. "Damnit Kyle, stop, it hurts!"

"Why exactly are you tickling Stan again?" Kenny asks curiously between laughs. "You're not getting anything out of this."

"I know," Kyle mumbles before making me suffer once more.

Eventually he makes me admit he's right, and it's only then he ceases his actions. I have the urge to get back at him again, but that would probably just end up with me on the losing end once more. I sigh and give it a rest; I know I'm right, and that's all that matters.

From somewhere, Ike gives an interrupting cough. "If you're done being gay yet, oatmeal's ready. I made some for all of us."

"Thanks," I reply politely, and I quickly bring myself to a standing position. I'm about to head for the dining table when I realize Kyle hasn't stood up yet. "Kyle, you coming?"

Kyle turns away quickly, but not quickly enough—he's a deep shade of red, and I'm not really sure why. "Yeah… coming." I lend out a hand, which he grabs thankfully, and once he's up on his feet again I give him a pat on his back.

"Wish me luck," I tell him jokingly.

"Why?"

"So I don't die of food poisoning." It turns out that Ike's oatmeal isn't really that bad. It's a lot better than anything I could manage, though it's not as great as my mom's. Still, it's a satisfying breakfast, and after I'm done I thank Ike for the food.

We play a few rounds of the Okama Gamesphere after breakfast. As always, Kyle whips me at the game, though Kenny puts up a decent fight, too. For someone without an Okama Gamesphere Kenny's actually quite good, but in the end Kyle just dominates us. And he's laughing about it, too.

Soon, though, Kyle gets tired of beating us over and over again. "Stan, I wanna do summer stuff now."

I pout at him, though it doesn't seem to change his decision any. "Wanna leave now?"

Kyle nods. "If that's okay with you."

"Yeah, yeah, of course… Kenny, you don't mind going now, do you?"

"Of course not." Not that he has any choice, really.

"Okay, then. That's settled. I'll go get my—" but before I can finish my sentence my phone rings.  
Wendy.

"Hold on," I tell Kyle and Kenny before taking the call. "Hey Babe."

"Hi Stan, what're you doing?"

"Me?" I leave the room to get my keys upstairs. "I'm over at Kyle's house, why?"

"Sleep over there?" she asks, and I affirm her suspicion. "Would've thought that'd be more of a kid's thing, but whatever."

"Maybe I still wanna be a kid," I say playfully into the phone, and she laughs. "Anyway, what're you up to?"

"Wondering if I'll actually see my boyfriend today." I frown; I don't understand the bitterness in her tone. After all, hadn't it been _her_ encouraging me to spend more time with Kyle?

"I dunno," I reply; "Kyle and I are headed my place after we drop off Kenny at his place. We're gonna work on the Calculus summer packet."

"Oh." There's a silence as I find my keys, stuffing them inside my pocket. "Maybe we could do something tomorrow?"

"Sounds good," I reply, and with that her voice seems to become lighter.

"Anyway then, have fun with Kyle! I'll see you tomorrow!" and before I can reply she cuts the line. I stare blankly at my phone for several minutes. I don't think I'll ever completely understand Wendy. Even now, I still don't understand why she's having me spend more time with Kyle while complaining about it.

It's only when Kyle starts yelling for me when I realize I've been staring at my phone for an entire minute. I shake off thoughts of Wendy—I'll deal with that later—and quickly make my way to my car, letting my passengers inside.

"Took you so long?" Kyle asks aloud once I'm in the vehicle.

"Nothing, really."

"Probably choked the chicken," Kenny says with a smirk, which I respond to by throwing a tissue box at him. "I think you're the one who needs these, Stan."

"Shut up," I protest weakly, shaking my head. "Anyway, ready to go?"  
And with the roaring of the engine we're off.

* * *

_Posted October 17th, 2007.  
Happy two-month anniversary!_


	10. Replacement

♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

_Replacement_

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦

The first thing I do when Kyle and I arrive at my house is call Wendy.

Kyle shifts uncomfortably at the door as he takes off his shoes. I've already made my way into the kitchen, fumbling through yesterday's mail to make sure there's nothing there I need. There's really nothing to do, really, except to listen to the dial tone.

"I don't see why you have to ask," Kyle says quietly, but I don't get the chance to reply; just as I'm about to open my mouth to respond to Kyle, Wendy's voice booms into my ear.

"Hey Stan!" exclaims Wendy, to which I reply with less enthusiasm. "How's the Calculus coming along?"

"Haven't started," I reply truthfully, earning a questioning remark from her end. "We had to drop off Kenny, first."

"I see." There's a brief silence afterward, and in that time Kyle manages to take his place next to me. "So, any reason why you called?—or did you miss me that much?"

"Of course," I tell her, and she laughs. Kyle's shifting uneasily from foot to foot, and he gives me a very hesitant frown as I clear my throat. "You know how I said we'd do something tomorrow, right…?"

The response I get is slightly… different than the one I had in mind. "Of course, Stan, and I was just about to ask you about that? What do you wanna do tomorrow? I mean like, we could eat out, maybe check that new bowling alley down the road, or maybe we could just hang out in the park, you know, how we used to just swing on the swings?—I think that'd be—"

"Kyle's parents are going to be out tomorrow evening," I interrupt, which immediately silences her. "Kyle's being left behind to look after Ike because they won't be back until the morning after, so..."

"So?"

"So... Kenny decided we should have a guys' night at his place tomorrow." I'm glad I'm talking to Wendy over the phone right now; I'm not even sure if I want to think about how shocked or sad she must look right now.

"But, but... you just had one!" Hearing her voice makes me look guiltily in Kyle's direction. He doesn't deserve to listen to this conversation... nor does he have to. I hold a finger in his direction, instructing him to wait for me, and I quickly walk to the bathroom to continue my conversation with Wendy.

"...so were not on for tomorrow, then," she's saying once I'm paying attention again. "I understand. Maybe the day after, then?"

"No, not necessarily!" I instinctively hold my free hand up in protest. "I mean, we could still do stuff during the daytime! Go to the park, maybe?" There's a silence between us as I bite my lip nervously. Maybe I should just not go to Kyle's house tomorrow. After all, it feels like Wendy's been looking forward to this for a while...

"Don't worry about it," she says at last, which results in a guilty feeling in my gut. "We'll just do something another time. Have fun doing whatever you're doing tomorrow, okay?"

"Wendy, I—"

"Seriously, Stan, just have fun. We'll have a chance some other time." I hang my head and stare at my feet. It only now occurs to me how crappy of a boyfriend I'm being... "Hey, Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."  
I pause for a moment. "Love you too, Babe."

A silence. Had I not been confident enough in my answer? But in the end she just tells me to have fun once more, and with that she hangs up. I hold the phone to my ear for several moments afterward, still staring at the tiles on the ground. I'm not really sure how much time actually passes before I realize that I've zoned out. Cursing under my breath, I quickly stuff the phone in my pocket before heading out of the bathroom.

Kyle's waiting for me the second I open the door. He's resting casually against the wall opposite the bathroom door, and he smiles happily in my direction when my eyes meet his. It's a warming smile, yet it causes a wave of guilt to wash over me. I'd chosen Kyle over Wendy again... But why should I feel guilty if it's what Wendy's been encouraging me to do all this time.

A sudden thought occurs to me once I've greeted him, and my face contorts at the thought of it. "You weren't listening in on my conversation, were you?" I ask him accusingly, and he raises his hands in defense.

"Of course not, Stan," he mumbles. "I wouldn't do that to you. Besides, I probably would've had my ear to the door if I really were trying to insult you."

"True... sorry." Yet again I hang my head, but he quickly places a hand on my shoulder. I raise my head to look at him, who smiles at me before leading me back to the kitchen. It feels strange; it wasn't too long ago at all when he was the one needing cheering up. Yet now he's this cheery person, and it's a little hard to get used to...

"We should probably start the calc homework," suggests Kyle, picking up his things and slinging them over his shoulder. For a moment I just stare at him, and it's only when he waves his hand in front of me when I snap out of it. I follow him up the stairs and into my room, and he seats himself at the foot of my bed. "Ready to begin?"

And so we do begin. We begin to delve into rather ridiculous mathematical concepts, things I'm supposedly supposed to know already. And of course I don't; asymptotes, limits, rational functions, conic sections… they all leave me very confused. I feel somewhat sorry for Kyle, who's struggling to explain concepts I really just don't get, but I'm happy he hasn't given up entirely on me, at least.

"You remember how to find the vertical asymptotes?" he asks calmly, and unsurprisingly I shake my head. "Here, give me the pencil." Now I feel even sorrier for him; I asked him if we could do our homework together, not to do it for me…. "You gotta set the denominator equal to zero…." Now that I think about it, I wonder why he does these things for me. I mean, I guess we _are_ best friends, but still… there are some limitations to it. It's not that I'm complaining, though, it's just….

"So x minus four is zero, and x minus three is zero… Stan, are you listening to me?"

I blink. "Sorry, what?"

He gives a restrained sigh—I can tell he's starting to get a little frustrated with me. "Have you been listening to me at all, dude?"

"Of course," I reply weakly, and he raises an eyebrow. That, of course, leads to him asking me to repeat what he's just explained, and I fail miserably in my attempt. After my failure I look to him with a guilty smile, and he shakes his head before explaining it to me once more.

I do pay attention this time, though, mainly because it's only fair. I don't want to annoy Kyle, as he's taken time to slow down and help me out. Hell, he probably would've finished by now if it weren't for me. I wouldn't say it's much of a sacrifice, but… I dunno. I'm still grateful that he's doing this for me. And if I don't fail Calculus next year, then… then I'll credit him for it.

"Why are we setting the denominator equal to zero, again?" I ask once he's finished explaining the problem. "I mean, I know that's what we have to do, but… why?"

He gives a frown and bites his lip. He's probably thinking of a way to word my answer…. After all, the explanation probably has to be watered down for my sake. "You remember what a vertical asymptote is, right?" he asks me politely.

"It's where the graph gets close to a vertical line but doesn't really touch it."

"Exactly," he says, "which means it can never equal that value. And so… if you remember that anything divided by zero gives you no solution, then… then you find the x-value of that vertical asymptote…. Does that make sense?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose. When am I ever going to use this stuff, anyway? "Yeah… I suppose…. Don't worry about it, dude. I'll just do it without needing to know why." He gives a grunt and lets it go. We spend another hour—maybe two—on this math packet, and it's only at the end of that time period when we actually finish. Of course, I take the moment to celebrate, and though relief and excitement are rushing through me I settle with resting exhaustedly on my bed. Kyle, on the other hand, merely gets up and walks around the room, stretching his legs and arms occasionally.

"Glad that's over," I say with a smile, letting out a rather large yawn.

"I'm not," Kyle mutters. I get up and look at him disbelievingly; maybe I just hadn't heard him right, but… no, I'm sure I heard him. And I suppose Kyle does like school to an extent, but… you'd have to be insane to want more math homework.

"What'd you say?" I repeat, but he quickly shrugs me off. "No dude, I heard you. You said you're not glad the math stuff's done."

"Then why did you ask me to repeat myself?" he challenges, though I have no answer. His answer seems to have a small amount of anger behind it, which saddens me a little; sometimes I think Kyle's a little bipolar, because he always seems to be happy one moment and not the next. Still, I liked him better before, when he was smiling at me when I looked at him. Now he just looks frustrated, which sorta makes sense. But if he's been so frustrated from tolerating my slowness, why did he say he wasn't glad about this ending…?

"It's cool if you want more math homework," I say quietly. I don't like the frown that's developing on Kyle's face, though, so I try to save myself. "But I mean if you really _don't_ want more, then that's cool too…."

"I don't want more," he says, stuffing his hands in his pocket. "It's just…." He doesn't finish his sentence. He turns away, a reddish tint on his face. I don't really see what's so embarrassing about the situation, though; I've already told him that it's okay for him to like math. It's nothing new, either, so it's not like he's just revealed to me some shocking secret of his.

Sparky saves us from the silence that had begun to set in. Seeing him push open my door brings me to a start; I hadn't thought about him since I got home, and knowing my forgetful parents and uncaring sister, he probably hasn't been fed since I last saw him. A wave of shame washes over me, but I quickly get over it as my newly found duty calls. I jump abruptly to my feet and race to my bedroom door, but before I leave it I turn to Kyle.

"Coming?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, I think I'll just hang around here until you get back… if that's fine with you." I quickly nod and close the door, and after I hear it shut completely I race down the stairs to catch up with my dog. It's already sometime in the afternoon, and by now my parents are out of their rooms; I catch my dad reading the paper as I pass the dining room, and I stop next to my mother making tea.

"Good afternoon, Stan," she says calmly, filling the kettle with water. "I take it you were at Kyle's house last night?"

"Yeah. I didn't tell you guys?"

"No, not at all, unless your father didn't tell me about it." She sighs. "Pity. I had something to give to Sheila. Next time you go over you let me know, okay?"

"Sure mom, okay." I search the pantry for Sparky's food before exiting the kitchen. Sparky's already waiting patiently by his bowl, and as he pants at me I pour the contents of the bag. He quickly gets to work at finishing the food, and I smile at his eagerness before turning back to the kitchen.

"Kyle's upstairs, you know," I tell my mother, returning the bag of dog food into the pantry. "When I bring him home I could take that thing with me, if you want."

"That's wonderful," my mom replies, "we'll do that then. Tell Kyle I said hi when you go back upstairs, will you?"

"Of course, mom," I reply, filling a small bowl with water before setting it beside Sparky's food. Sparky nibbles my toe affectionately in thanks before returning to his food. I stare at my dog one last time before raising my head, turning to my dad at the table. Wendy still doesn't understand why my dad never greets me; she had gotten into a rather embarrassing situation when she had asked about it. I guess in reality, though, it's merely because my dad's too occupied with what he's reading. I don't really mind, though; as long as I don't have anything important to tell him, not talking to him is fine by me. It's bad enough having to deal with him when he isn't sober….

I walk past him, but it's the fact that he actually acknowledges me that surprises me. "Stan."

I stutter. "Y-yes, dad?" He says nothing, merely motioning to the seat next to him. I'm not sure why I'm so hesitant to obey him but I do so anyway, slowly pulling the chair and seating myself in it. He still has his face buried in the paper, which for some reason makes me uneasy.

"Your eighteenth birthday is coming up soon isn't it, son." It's more of a statement than a question, but I nod anyway. Granted my birthday's actually in October, and August begins tomorrow… it's not really_soon_. But I get the general gist of his statement, which is all that matters. "I've been thinking… eighteen's the big one, isn't it?"

"Yeah… I guess."

He gives me a pat on the back, the newspaper falling slightly before he picks it up once more. "I'd get you a car, Stan, but you already have one." He clears his throat, putting the paper aside. "I'm going to ask you honestly, and I expect an honest one back. What do you want for your eighteenth birthday?"

He's looking at me with an unnerving glare, and it somewhat frightens me. I don't think this is supposed to be all that serious of a question, yet my dad's treating it like a live-or-die question. But as I turn away to think, I begin to wonder… what _do_ I want? There really isn't much I want right now, aside from all the little petty things—but I don't dare use those as one of my answers, because I'm sure he'll tear me apart if I suggest something so…_unworthy_ of an eighteenth birthday, in his eyes. There's nothing really I can suggest; I already have a car, though I could always ask for a new one… and asking for a new computer won't do me any good since I don't often use my current, anyway.

In the end I say the only thing that seems fair to his question. "Dad, it's… only July, almost August. Do you think… do you think I could get back to you on that?"

For a second I'm scared he might bite my head off at the response, but instead he only gives me a sympathetic smile. "Sure, son, take your time. Just thought I'd ask you now just in case I need time to get it."

And with that he returns to his newspaper. I quietly get up, unsure whether I've been excused from the conversation, and when he doesn't say anything I decide to just leave. But instead of going upstairs I return to Sparky, who's already finished his food. I grumble, shaking my head at Sparky's fast eating, and he follows me as I return his water bowl to the sink. I think he's following me because he wants a walk, but I don't feel in the mood to give him one. Or at least, not yet, because I've left Kyle alone upstairs for too long and I don't want to keep him waiting for much longer.

Sparky follows me as I climb the stairs, taking four or so steps for every one step I make of my own, and he's intelligent enough to remain somewhat calm when I open the door.

"Hey Kyle, sorry I—" but I don't finish. Instead my eyes fall upon the still body of Kyle on my bed. I think he's sleeping, based on the fact that his body's slowly rising and falling, but I can't tell because he's got his back to me. Smiling, I quietly move to the other side of the bed to make sure he's really asleep.

His eyes are closed, so I assume he's asleep. Had I really been that long downstairs? But something makes me curious; he's holding one of my sweaters close to him, and I could even go so far as to say that he'd been holding it up to his face before falling asleep—though, that assumption's only based on whenever I see Wendy sleeping in that position. The similarities between him and Wendy confuse me at first, especially since it's not just another girl but instead my best friend. But then I realize he's only wearing a t-shirt, and granted he's not using the blanket, I figure he was probably just cold.

He looks peaceful in his sleeping position, which is all that really matters to me. I proceed to tuck him in; I can't really tuck him underneath the covers, since he happens to be sleeping on the blankets, so instead I wrap the free ends of the blanket and encase him with it, so that it looks like he's in a cocoon of sorts. Maybe he's had a long day—or maybe I've just exhausted him to the point of passing out—but either way, I leave my room and leave him alone.

I had been planning to take Sparky on a walk with Kyle, but that can't really happen anymore. So instead I take the walk by myself; Sparky becomes even more eager as I grab the leash, practically jumping at me with whatever energy his old legs can muster. Eventually I do calm the dog down, and once I've got the leash securely fastened at his collar I head my way to the door.

"Be home before supper, dear," my mom calls, to which I acknowledge.

"Oh, mom," I add before leaving, "Kyle's asleep upstairs, so if he wakes up before I get back just tell him I went to walk Sparky, okay?"

"Of course, dear." She returns to the kitchen as I turn Sparky.

"Ready for your walk now?" I ask him, and he barks in response.  
I think he said something along the lines of: "_About damn time_."

* * *

_Posted October 28th, 2007.  
__Happy birthday, mom!_

_Just a friendly reminder: Please leave a review. It lets authors know who to distribute their cookies to. _


	11. Desperation

♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

_Desperation_

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦

Morning comes too quickly for my liking.

I groan. Not only does it seem unusually early but it's also unusually bright, too. I think someone's purposely drawn back the curtains, and as I peer into the bright light I see none other than Kyle smiling at my discomfort.

Why the hell he's up so early isn't a hard question to answer. After all, Kyle had fallen asleep so early the night before. I hadn't bothered to wake him up when I had gotten back from walking Sparky, though he must've woken up sometime before I arrived because he had been completely under my blankets. I had stared at him for almost a minute, debating in my head whether Kyle could actually be _that_ tired, but in the end I decided to leave him there, leaving him to go eat dinner with my family.

Granted that I had thus taken the floor, Kyle had at least a four-hour advantage over me… hence why he's so damn awake right now. But as for why he's gotta wake me up?

Asking him elicits an unsatisfactory answer. "Wendy's on the phone."

"You answered my phone?" I ask, and he nods fearfully. Maybe it's just the fact that he's used to a cranky Ike in the morning, but for some reason he's almost _frightened_ of the action he's just committed. And so, I smile at him as cheerfully as I can before taking my phone from him and speaking into it. "Hey."

"Hey." It's Wendy. "You just wake up?"

I affirm her inquiry. "Yeah, actually… it's a little too early to be talking on the phone…."

"It's almost noon," Wendy informs me, and I mentally gape at her. "But I'm sorry… I didn't know you were still asleep."

"Don't worry about it," I assure her. "I'll just blame Kyle for waking me up to answer." From her end there's an awkward laugh; she probably thinks I don't really want to talk to her and that I'm only doing so because I'm awake. And while that viewpoint isn't exactly true, I can't really reword what I said without sounding this way….

I ignore Kyle's scowl and continue. "So any reason you called?"

"Well…." Wendy stumbles on the answer, and I spend the extra time on making my bed. From the corner of my eye I can already see Sparky eyeing me with the clear intention of being walked yet again. "I was wondering if it was too late to go back on what I said."

I blink. "Said about what?"

"About not wanting to do anything today," she reminds me. "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to do something later this afternoon before your thing with the guys…. Unless you don't want to?"

I pause for a moment; the proper answer, being her boyfriend, would be yes. Yet for some reason there's a part of me that doesn't want to, and I don't really understand why I'm feeling that way. I turn to Kyle, who is busy biting his nails, and it's only after several moments when I realize Wendy's still waiting for my answer.

"Er, actually…. Well I'd love to, Babe, but I'm kinda entertaining Kyle right now and it'd be hard to—"

"Kyle's over there right now?"

"Yeah… I said he woke me up, didn't I?"

"Oh… right." A pause, though I'm not sure what for. "Well, Kyle can come along too, if he wants."

I turn to Kyle, who's now looking at me expectantly. For some reason I don't think he really _wants_ to go anywhere with me and Wendy; I see him as the type of person who wouldn't want to come between a date…. But was this really a date? It was more of an afternoon outing, something before the night out with the guys. But if that were the case, why does she want Kyle to come, too? Wouldn't she just want me and her to…?

"Stan?"

I blink. "What, sorry? Kinda zoned out."

"I noticed. You okay?"

"What?—yeah, yeah, 'course I'm fine." I'm sure Wendy's giving me a reproachful gaze at the moment. "Really, I am."

"Right." A pause. "Can I talk to Kyle?"

"What for?"

"Just to ask him himself. Come on, give him the phone." I roll my eyes several times before handing the phone over to him. There's something in my expression, though, that makes him quite surprise, but nevertheless he takes it and begins talking to her.

I groan and fall onto my newly made bed. I'm not sure why, but it suddenly feels burdensome being around Wendy… as if spending time with her is only an obligation, now. Or maybe it's just because she keeps asking for time when I haven't gotten any, but….

Sparky bounces on me seconds later, his motives anything but keeping my face untouched. He licks my cheeks, and he seems to enjoy watching me recoil from his wet tongue. It's more than obvious what he wants—another walk—but I won't give it to him… at least, not until I get my phone back.

As if on cue, Kyle flops next to me on the bed, placing the phone on my chest. "She hung up," Kyle says matter-of-factly. His hand is still on my chest, probably to keep Sparky from licking the phone underneath it. I frown at him, so he continues. "I told her I didn't want to interrupt your date, and though she insisted it wasn't… in the end she just gave up. She kinda figured you didn't want to leave me to myself, so she dropped the whole thing altogether?"

"Really?" I ask curiously, trying to keep my excitement to a minimum. Though, judging the grin on his face, I don't do such a good job. "Well I mean, it would've been hectic, having to go with her, then with you guys…."

"Because it really takes you a whole day to prepare for a night with the guys," Kyle retorts with a smirk. I shake my head at him, throwing the hand on my chest off of me; my phone falls to my side. "Aw, don't tell me I lost rights to putting my hand there!"

"You never had any to begin with," I joke, reaching for my phone. But somehow… somehow Kyle's got it back in his possession. "Give it back."

He shakes his head profusely, turning his head to the ceiling. "You've got no pockets, anyway."

"But, but…!" I pout at him; he's not looking at me at the moment, but he's going to have to see my puppy face eventually…. "I want my phone back!"

He turns to me and laughs.

"Damnit Kyle, you're supposed to take pity on me, not laugh at me."

"Oh, that reminds me," Kyle says, completely ignoring my puppy-pout, "Your mom said to come down for brunch when you wake up."

"Gee, thank you Kyle, now can I have my phone back?" But he merely sticks his tongue at me and leaves me on my bed. I frown and growl, all before getting up and chasing after him. This of course, earns a very threatening glare from Shelley, but I merely ignore her as my chase entails a ten-minute pursuit around the entire house, ultimately ending in my dining room.

"That's enough boys," my mom says, walking out with a plate of food for the both of us. "Kyle, I called your mom and asked if this was fine, and she said all of it is fine. You don't have to worry about whether you're allowed to eat it."

"Really?" Kyle asks with a surprised and amused tone. "I'm pretty sure this isn't kosher…." My mom merely shrugs and walks away. On that matter, I'm pretty sure she's as clueless as me. She's also as apathetic as Kyle is. So everything works out.

I spend most of brunch asking for my cell phone back, but I never get it. I do stop asking for a while, but only when I realize our conversations seem to have died out because of its absence do I decide to pester about it once more. Except, even after we're both done, he still doesn't give it to me.

"Walk the dog!" I distinctly hear my mom call out before we head back to my room. I can see my phone in his pocket—my phone is _right_ there, the bulge in his left pocket—and if only I could get my hands on that thing…. But I can't.

"Gonna walk the dog?" Kyle asks me, and I nod. "You think I could tag along this time?"

"Don't like being left alone here?" I ask him curiously, though I don't really pay attention to the answer he gives me. "I'm cool with that. Er, just wait for me by the door I guess." He nods before taking his leave, leaving me alone as I enter my room. As if psychic, Sparky immediately walks up to me, and I quickly get the leash tied onto his collar. The entire time he wears his goofy grin, and he even licks my hand a few times when I finish. I shake my head at him before dragging him down the stairs and to where Kyle is waiting for us.

The first few minutes of our walk is spent in silence. The summer weather is not to my liking, but at least it's one of few months. After a while, though, the silence becomes a little too awkward, and so I begin to pester him for my phone again; apparently he had forgotten he still had it.

We're headed for our old elementary school, so it seems. I've got so many memories with Kyle in that school; it's amazing how so much happened to us when we were elementary students. From having creepy organizations after us to having global affairs ruin our town, from being well-known in World of Warcraft to well-known in Guitar Hero; we seemed to have a lot going on back then.

And now… well now, not really so much. Kenny still dies occasionally, and he still comes back to life afterward. But other than that, our lives have slowly become normal. And it feels weird sometimes, because half the time I forget life used to be so fucked up. But seeing oddities like Mr. (or was it Mrs.…?) Garrison makes living in South Park feel a bit strange.

Kyle seems to be having the same thought process I'm having. "Lots of memories here, aren't there?"

I nod in sheer agreement. "Yeah, definitely. To think we're gonna send our kids here one day…." Ahead of us Sparky barks, as if agreeing with my sentence. If he weren't a gay dog, maybe one day his kids would've walked the paths to this school….

Kyle frowns, however. "I don't think I'll be having kids, but I guess they'd go to school here… or wherever the hell I'd end up living."

"You're not having kids?" I ask, and he shakes his head. "Why not?"

He hesitates and sighs. "I dunno, I guess they're just not my thing." I nod in comprehension. His voice is somewhat cracked, but I suppose the issue of children is more of a personal matter to begin with….

"That shouldn't be a problem then," I say jokingly, giving his shoulder a little nudge. "We can't have kids, anyway." He gives a nervous laugh, turning away as he turns red. I probably should've left the matter alone the first time when I realized the awkwardness of having kids. But yet, I couldn't help throwing that joke in there, and Kyle's usually good with taking homosexual jokes like that….

But not this time?

He lets out a soft gasp, and it takes me a minute to realize why. Somehow, perhaps subconsciously, we've landed ourselves in front of some trees. Yet Kyle and I—and for some reason, Sparky—seem to realize that these aren't just any patch of woods, and I can already feel the overwhelming sensation of memories flooding into my mind as I consider what's beyond the parting in front of us.

"Too dark for you?" Kyle asked with a smirk, and I immediately disagree. Sparky doesn't seem to mind the walk into the somewhat dark woods; on the contrary he took great pleasure in snapping twigs beneath his paws as he walked. I feel Kyle clasp my free hand, for what purpose I'm not sure, but we merely keep walking, heads up, and heads held high in expectation.

And of course, when we arrive at the clearing, it looks almost the same. The same hill, the same flowers, the same _number_ of flowers…. I remember marveling at this sight as a kid. I always used to wonder why there were so few flowers, why they grew on the hill and _only_ the hill. Why they looked so nice yet were so few in number….

Kyle laughs at the sight, letting go of my hand. "Remember what I said about this hill?"

I shrug. "Something about those flowers. And for some reason I keep thinking of the word 'dead'."

He laughs again, lying against the hill as he looks up at me. "I think it was something about us being those flowers, and how we were perfect while the rest of the world was dead or something." And yet again, he laughs. "I was a weird kid back then, you know? Thought too much for my own good."

"So you aren't an undercover assassin or something?" I clarify, and he affirms. "Good, good. Now that I think about it, the concept _was_ a little on the frightening side." I take a seat next to Kyle and give Sparky a little more of the leash, so he can walk around in what the rest of the world was, as Kyle put it.

There's a silence between us now, and he seems to be contemplating a rather serious issue. It's within this silence when I think about the place we're in right now. It was supposed to resemble our friendship, as odd as it sounded. This was supposed to be proof that we'd be friends, that our friendship would be perfect, even when the world around us wasn't…. That was what it was supposed to mean, wasn't it?

For some reason, I think Kyle's thinking about the same thing as I am. But I don't feel like asking him about it, because there seems to be something more to it that what I realize. He's biting his lip; he's staring into the sky; his fingers are fidgeting; his eyes are beginning to water.

Eventually, I do break the silence. "Kyle… you okay?"

He doesn't answer, but instead merely looks at me. There's a pleading look in his eyes, but even though I want to help him, I have no idea what he's after. Instead I bite my lip and reach an arm around him, bringing him closer to me with the best of my ability. He leans into me and sighs, shaking his head.

"You sure you're okay?"

No answer, or at least not right away. When he does answer, though, his voice is more than just trembling. It sounds weak and fragile, as if he's admitting something he's been keeping for a while. And of course, that's exactly what I think it is, because I'm sure there's been many times when he seemed odd but claimed to be all right.

"No matter what happens," he begins, glancing somewhere over me. I turn and find a blue flower towering gracefully above the evenly trimmed grass. "No matter what happens, we'll still be friends, right?"

I glare at him accusingly. "Of course, dude… why wouldn't we be? We've been through some crazy shit; there isn't much that'll tear me away from you." I give him a light squeeze, and he trembles at my touch. "Everything will be fine, don't worry about it. I'm sorry if it ever seems like I'm ignoring you, or if I'm not being a proper friend to you. But I assure you I don't mean to, so… just tell me stuff, all right? I'll never know how you feel if you never tell me anything."

He gives a slight nod, but he doesn't say anything. So instead, I continue. "You're my Super Best Friend. I'll do pretty much anything for you, dude." I give him a kiss to the side of his head before letting go of him. He stares at me for a second, as if asking me to stay, but I reluctantly tell him we can't stay longer.

"Mom's gonna wonder where we went," I inform him, and he merely nods. Sparky, too, seems disappointed in our departure, and I find myself dragging two identities back through the woods and to my house. I'm holding Kyle the entire time, my arm around his shoulders, and only occasionally does he rest his shoulder on me.

"No matter what, right?" he asks again, and I confirm his statement. A few moments later he asks the same thing, to which I give the same answer. "Even if I got with Wendy behind your back?"

"Even so… I wouldn't be mad at you forever, at least."

"Even if I joined the baseball team and took your position as captain?"

For a moment I feel frustrated with Kyle, but a sudden thought occurs to me. I reply to Kyle with a smirk. "Yes, Kyle. Even if you stuck your hand down my pants, or even if I stuck my hand down yours. It still wouldn't change things between us."

He doesn't say anything, which is exactly the reaction I want. "Look, if you don't believe me…."

I stick my hand into his pocket. He becomes rigid, forcing the both of us to pause, and he looks at me with a surprised yet terrified gaze. Of course, I'm not exactly _down_ his pants, but it does accomplish my goal…. "There. No harm done."

He bites his lip before beginning to walk once more. "Stan, tell me with a little more of notice before sticking your hand down my pants. I'd appreciate it."

I raise an eyebrow. "But you always let me do it in the past! Why not now?" Thankfully Kyle catches my joking tone, and he merely smirks back at me. However, at that moment, my phone begins to ring, interrupting our newly-attained lighter mood. Yet as I fish for my phone in my pocket, Kyle stares at me disbelievingly.

"You _jerk_!" he yells, a playful smile on his face. "_That's_ why you went into my pocket!"

I merely stick my tongue at him before peering at the caller display. It's Cartman, apparently. Despite Kyle's persuasions, I decide to pick it up. "What do you want, Cartman?"

I'm surprised to hear Kenny's voice. And he sound desperate. "S-Stan…? It's me, Kenny."

"I know it's you Ken, what's up? You okay…?"

"No, it's, I'm… just get to Cartman's house as quickly as you can, okay? It's… it's an emergency." And that's it. The line cuts dead and I'm left to stare at my phone. Kyle seems to have realized something's gone wrong, and he catches my eye several times before I can find the words I want.

"It's Kenny…" I mutter quietly. "I think… I think something's happened to him."

* * *

Posted November 7th, 2007.

Just a friendly reminder: Please leave a review. It lets authors know who to keep alive when they take over the world.


	12. Calm

_Calm_

After leaving Sparky at my house, Kyle and I had both headed to Cartman's house. We had walked quickly and silently, and possibilities were running through my mind, some quite unbelievable. But despite those I tried keeping my mind clear, thinking of how to approach the situation once we got there.

…of course, I fail miserably, so in the end I decide to wing the situation when it comes. After all, knowing Cartman, it's probably all just a fraud. But granted it was Kenny who called….

When we do get there the driveway is empty and the door, usually left unlocked, doesn't open when I try it. I look to Kyle, who gives me a questioning glance, and I shrug before ringing the doorbell.

"So what's your big emergency?" I ask Kenny when he opens the door. His blonde hair is disheveled—probably from him pulling at it—but other than that there really doesn't seem to be anything wrong with him. No visible bruises, no scars, no bleeding….

Kenny doesn't answer my question. "Cartman's upstairs," he says quietly, taking me by the hand as he leads me there. Kyle trails behind us, and he gives me a questioning look. Is Cartman having this emergency, then? But other than the fat melting off him, I don't really see what emergency Cartman could probably be having….

We try coaxing more answers out of him, but he avoids all our questions simply by remaining silent. Is this a game?—he's even smiling a bit! But instead I just keep asking, in the hopes of getting an answer before we get to Cartman.

"In here," he tells us, putting a finger to his lips. And though I have no idea why we have to be quiet, I merely nod and follow him into the room. And of course, as my suspicions have led me to believe, the fat _isn't_ melting off Cartman, and he looks perfectly fine. Although… he isn't smiling like Kenny is. On the contrary, though he isn't having an emergency, he looks quite stressed out.

"Yeh guys!" he says, coming to a running halt in front of us. "Yeh guys, this is an emergency!"

"What is it, Cartman?" Kyle sneers, glaring at Cartman. The two have never really gotten along… even now. Kyle claims Cartman hasn't matured yet and that he's always being such a dick about everything, and while I guess I agree with him somewhat I probably don't hate him as much as Kyle does.

"We. Have. No. Booze." Cartman stares at Kyle, then to me. "We. Have. No. Money."

He looks at us pleadingly. So that's what this is all about? Alcohol? I roll my eyes and turn to Kyle, who seems equally annoyed by the matter. At least we weren't doing anything important when Kenny had called… otherwise maybe I would've been a bit more mad.

But Kyle still seems furious, even if he hadn't been doing too much before heading over here. And it's not like Cartman doesn't do this every time to us—because he does—and so Kyle's sheer anger mystifies me. But then, I suppose it _is_ Cartman….

"Damnit Cartman, what the fucking hell is wrong with you? You don't just, _call_ people and feign emergencies like that! It's a good thing we even fucking came here; what if you had a _real_ emergency, huh? What if we didn't fucking come to your rescue, huh?" By now Kenny's stepped in and restrained Kyle, and though I'm hesitant I do step in and make sure Cartman doesn't get to Kyle. I suppose this is one of those moments, where Kyle's just taken too much from Cartman and just eventually blows up….

Eventually Kyle does calm down, and within that amount of time Kenny and I had managed to switch places, so that he was with Cartman and I was with Kyle. Cartman was still badmouthing him, of course, talking about how he 'wouldn't really give a shit if we didn't come,' but Kyle kept silent. Granted he probably wanted to talk, but I had long learned that giving him a massage seemed to calm him and prevent him from exploding like a volcano.

As soon as the first silence arises among the four of us—ten minutes later—Kenny breaks it. "So seriously, what _are_ we gonna do about our booze problem?" he asks the still air, immediately receiving hostile looks from Kyle's direction.

"You are _not_ bringing alcohol into my house!"

"But _Kahl_…!" but Kyle merely shakes his head, causing an irritated Cartman to turn away. Probably to prevent himself from angering Kyle yet again. "Kahl, _everyone_ knows that booze is the only requirement in a good social gathering! We _have_ to have the booze!"

"No fucking way, Cartman," he snaps. "I'm supposed to be babysitting Ike, damnit!"

"He's a big boy; tell him not to tell on us." I'm not sure whose side I'm on, really. I won't deny that I'm not an angel and have never gotten drunk before, and I can somewhat admit that, in my conscious moments that I do remember, I did have some fun. But the situation is a little different in this case, and I sure as hell don't want to get in trouble by Kyle's parents. Anyone but them.

I move my hands to give Kyle a massage again, and he slackens at my touch. I smile; I'm not exactly proud of it, but it's nice to know that I'm one of the few people who can keep Kyle calm, especially when he's extremely angry. I dunno if it's just me or merely anyone who massages him, but I dunno… it's a nice feeling.

He turns around and pouts at me. "Stan… you aren't doing this because… well, you're not trying to _persuade_ me, are you?"

My mind blanks before giving a laugh. I hadn't even thought about that; I suppose it does look like I'm trying to just that…. "No, no, of course not…."

"You two are totally gay," Cartman says, rolling his eyes. "Like seriouslah, Stan askin' Kahl like that…. Stan, I didn't know you were the woman in this."

"Shut up," I retort, and Kyle quickly looks forward and not at me once more. I shrug and look over Kyle's shoulder once more. "If Kyle says no alcohol at his house, then we aren't having any. Understood?" Kenny nods immediately, though dejected, but it takes a while to get Cartman to agree. Instinctively I would've thought it'd be the other way around, with Kenny craving for the alcohol; but I suppose those things tend to surprise us on occasion.

"You're the bitch _and_ the man?" Cartman asks in disbelief, but I merely ignore him and lean closer to Kyle.

"Wanna head back to my place?" I whisper into his ear, so that only he hears it. But it's only when he jumps forward and away from me do I realize what I've said and how he probably comprehended that…. "No, not like that!"

"The answer's yes," Kyle says, turning red. Crap, he's probably going to think I'm gay now, or something. "Just… word your questions better, I guess." We both get up from the bed, both boys' eyes watching us as we make our way to the door.

Kyle doesn't say goodbye to either of them, but I decide to at least wave a farewell. Cartman just shoos me encouragingly, but Kenny's giving me this thrusting motion, smirking as he nudges his head at Kyle's direction. I roll my eyes and gag before giving him the finger.

"Get 'er _dun_," he yells at me before I slam shut the door. Kyle gives me a curious look, but I don't explain anything to him until we get out of Cartman's house. Mrs. Cartman happens to be arriving home just as we're through the door, and she gives a friendly wave as we pass her car.

"My son's inside, I take it?" she asks, and we both nod. "Well, have a nice day, both of you."  
And she's off.

We walk to my house in silence, though the silence doesn't last. A minute later and it occurs to me how it hadn't even been two hours since Kyle had interrogated me about our friendship…. And though I should probably be worried about his doubts on our friendship, I'm occupied with being amazed at his ability to seem so… bipolar. I guess bipolar isn't really the word, but it's like he has different sides to him, personalities I'm familiar with. Yet there'll always be that one side of him I've never seen before….

Kyle interrupts my train of thought. "Shouldn't we just head to my house?" I give him a questioning look, to which he shrugs. "I dunno, I kinda figured… since we're just gonna go to my house anyway…. But I dunno, I suppose if you need to go home—"

"Nah, I don't really," I tell him, pulling out my cell phone. "I'll just tell my folks, and then it should be fine." He nods before coming to a halt. I look at him with confusion before realizing that going to Kyle's house would require us to go in the other direction, and I lead the way as I place the phone to my ear, Kyle a few steps behind me.

"Good afternoon, Stan."

"Hey mom," I speak into the phone, "I'm gonna be at Kyle's house for the day. I'll be home somewhat late, so don't cook dinner for me."

"Okay, have fun, then."  
And that's it.

I hang up and pocket my phone, turning to Kyle. "It's a go," I tell him, giving him the thumbs up. He nods to this before retreating to a silence; I slacken to his pace and allow the silence between us to settle in, and though it feels somewhat awkward it also feels welcoming.

It's not long before we get to his house. He kicks off his shoes as we enter, making sure to arrange them afterward; and the two of us head up to his room. His father is in his work office, and he gives us a wave as we pass; but other than that it seems like the house is empty. There're no sounds indicating Ike's presence, and there isn't an odd waft of food in the air indicating Mrs. Broflovski's 'experimental' cooking.

"Okama Gamesphere?" he asks, nudging to the television. To this I nod, and we quickly get the game set up.

Surprisingly we spend hours playing the Okama Gamesphere. Occasionally I catch a glimpse of Kyle's face, which suggests he's barely trying. Granted that I'm trying my hardest to beat him, it doesn't really put me under that great of a spotlight. But at least he's tolerating me, which I appreciate….

It's only when Mrs. Broflovski tells us she's leaving do we stop playing. We leave the console to say farewell to his parents, and for five minutes after their departure we merely lounge around in the kitchen, waiting to see if his parents will come back at the last minute. Though, granted we decided on no alcohol, I'm not sure why we're being so secretive about this….

When we're sure they won't come back, Kyle hands me the phone. I smirk at him before dialing Cartman's land-line.  
"Time to have some fun…."

-

Despite everything the both of us had said earlier, Cartman ended up bringing a few six-packs to Kyle's house. Of course, Kyle had entered a fit, and it had taken quite a lot of massaging on my part to get him to calm down. He hadn't yelled so much as he had earlier in the day, partially because Cartman was using the same excuses and reasons he had used back in his house; but it had been enough to catch a curious Ike's attention.

To his unsurprised dismay, both Kyle and Kenny refused to let him have any.

At first Kyle had been insistent on getting rid of it, but eventually he gave in to Cartman's reasons. Not that he necessarily agreed with them, but according to Cartman his mother had spent money on that and consequently didn't want it to go to waste. And though we had settled on that being a good reason to keep it, I still didn't quite think it was that great of an excuse. But in all seriousness, what mother would knowingly by a pack of beer for a bunch of seventeen-year-olds?

At first we had played on the Okama Gamesphere. There were five of us and four controllers, and so the loser would have to give up his controller. It seemed that that person usually ended up being Kenny or Cartman, who really didn't play that often; Ike, probably on that same note, was perhaps the only real competition Kyle had, and they split the victories almost evenly. And me?—I suppose I was just kinda there, neither winning nor losing.

We didn't really touch the beer until the ball game started, which we had watched in the living room downstairs. First it had been Cartman, who had gladly taken one without hesitation. Ike had looked at him with fascination, the black beads of his eyes glistening at the sight of Cartman downing a whole bottle within minutes, and it had taken a great deal of scolding on Kyle's part to keep Ike from being tempted. On Cartman's second bottle Kenny had decided to take one, and it was then when Kyle and I ran into a small issue.

It was more an issue on Kyle's part, though, yet I had listened anyway. "I want one," he had said glumly, turning to the bottles of beer on the table. I had laughed at this, telling him I'd have never expected it from him, but he only grumbled when he heard me. "Cartman will probably call me a hypocrite if I take one, but…."

"Just take one," I had told him, reaching to the table to grasp one. I toss it lightly to him, and he catches it with ease. "He'll be too drunk to notice, anyway."

"But…." His retort died soon afterwards. "I guess I could, then. But who's gonna watch Ike?"

"I'll do it," I had told him, and that had been enough. For the next hour I had watched the three downing the alcohol, Cartman and Kenny drinking equal yet ghastly amounts. Though I didn't quite mind their behavior, I _did_ mind the increasing noise that was occurring during the game I was trying to watch. And even though the Rockies hadn't exactly been leading, I had ultimately left to watch the game back in Kyle's room.

Ike had followed me, and the two of us watch the game together. It turns out Ike's a fan of baseball too, something I would never have guessed. In between commercials we talk about baseball teams, the quality of the players, and other things I usually can't talk to other about.

I think an hour passes—it's the top of the eighth, now—and the game's become tied at two a piece with two outs. "They're really quiet downstairs," Ike mutters, to which I give a shrug. My mind's partially glued to the game, and I don't really care what's going on anywhere else…. "Stan?"

"Hold on," I say, breathing only whenever I remember to. Shit, he swung—phew, foul ball. But it's still two outs…. "He just needs to run two bases, get that runner on second to home…."

"Stan?"

Another swing… but this time it's a miss. Shit.

"Sorry Ike… what were you saying?"

"You think we should check up on them?" he asks again, nudging his head to the door. "For a trio of drunkards they're kinda quiet." I shrug and nod, and we quickly make our way downstairs. Granted we only have until the end of the commercial break, we're a tad pressed for time….

What I see surprises me. Well not the part involving Cartman, because I kinda expected him to pass out quickly, granted how much he drank. But I dunno, I never really expected to see Kyle and Kenny with their pants off, their shirts pulled off only slightly so it looks like they're wearing ill-decorated bras. Kyle's also got some bottle of make up stuff in his hand, and by the looks of it he's been putting it on Kenny… poorly.

"Is that mom's?" Ike exclaims, giving a hearty laugh. "I _so_ have to take a picture of this." He runs back upstairs and shuts a door, leaving me with my drunken friends. I look from one to the other and roll my eyes; they definitely change when under the influence.

"There he is!" Kenny exclaims, pointing at me. I bite my lip and fear the worst as the two come toward me, Kenny giggling quite… annoyingly. "We're prettier than they are, don't you think?" He's pointing to the television, and somehow between I last saw them it had been changed to MTV. And granted that many of the girls on that channel are sluts….

"You guys are idiots," I mumble, fixing Kyle's shirt. "Gimme that stuff," I add, pointing to whatever's in Kyle's hand. He looks at me fearfully, but in the end he manages to give it to me; I set it down next to the beer. "Remind me to never let you get drunk again."

"What a friend you are!" Kyle yells, and for a second I'm afraid he's going to spew his anger on me… I don't think massages will get me out of this one, though. But thankfully, instead, he doesn't take that road. "What an incredible friend you are, watching out for your mates! I applaud you, sir!"

…what the fuck?

"I'm not ashamed to say it!" he continues triumphantly, stepping on his couch. "I'm proud to be your best mate!"

"What, you turn British when you're drunk?" Kenny and I ask at the same time, except since Kenny's wasted he ends up on the floor. I shake my head; perhaps choosing to stay sober for the evening wasn't such a bad idea after all. It's actually quite amusing to see this side of Kyle and Kenny; I kinda expected Kenny's drunken behavior, but it's almost as if alcohol opens up a side of Kyle I've never known before. And coming from his Super Best Friend, saying that means a lot.

At the same time, though, seeing this side of them is kinda painful to watch… especially having to see them dressed as girls. But at least they haven't put on miniskirts yet… unless that was their intention in the boxers….

"You think we could sleep over?" Kenny asks with a slurred accent, picking himself up from the floor. "Dun think my parents would mind, if they even sober to care."

"You can!" Kyle says excitedly, tipping over slightly, and I quickly find myself reaching forward to catch him before he hits the floor. "My savior!"

…I bet you anything Ike just went to catch the game again. That damned Canadian….

"Are you going to stay over?" Kyle asks me, his eyes quite wide with admiration. They also happen to be out of focus and quite red, and he keeps looking from me to other places in the room. "Please…?"

I sigh. "…I don't think I really have much of a choice, do I?"

He jumps in excitement and slips, but he quickly catches himself and leans into me. "Yay!" he exclaims before closing the gap between us. My eyes widen when I feel his lips on my chin—I think he's missing his target—but I don't really pull away… though that's mainly just because he's going to fall if I let go of him. His kiss is very wet, very alcohol-induced, and though eventually he does kiss me somewhat properly I don't do anything except let him continue. He doesn't know what he's doing. I don't want this; neither does he. But to stop him now would be somewhat rude, and I'm not sure how he'd react….

Eventually he does stop. I bet it's hardly as awkward for him as it is for me. He's grinning at me with this devilish look, and he even snickers before burying his face in my shirt. I can feel him drooling on me, but I can't exactly tell him to get off me because he seems to have passed out….

Chuckling to myself, I set Kyle down onto the couch. I can almost sense that tomorrow won't be a good morning; they're all going to puke out what they've drunk, and there's gonna be a whole lot of cleaning to do before his parents get home. And then if I'm lucky, Kyle's gonna remember that he kissed me, and I'm gonna have to suffer seeing Kyle bothered all over again… though, it does strike me odd as to why he actually _did_ kiss me. I'm somewhat hoping it was just because of the alcohol, but if it wasn't….

"Is he asleep?" Kenny asks me, resting his chin on my shoulder. I turn to him and nod, and he gets off me. "Think I'll be off then, too. Say if someone calls for me." And with that, he's asleep too. Somewhere, very faintly, I can hear the sound of an audience cheering, probably on a television… and for some reason, at the moment I don't seem to care so much.

Tomorrow's going to be a very crappy day, I decide. And I should probably start cleaning up now before I forget….

I'll make Ike help me.

* * *

Posted: November 14th, 2007.  
Let's celebrate in honor of my first line break!

Just a friendly reminder: Please review. It lets authors know who to give their Reviewer-of-the-Month medallions to.


	13. Disarray

♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

_Disarray_

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦

"Why did you kiss me?"

_Because you were drunk_.  
"Because I wanted to."

"You wanted to?"

_No_.  
"Yeah. Why?"

"But if you wanted to, that means you're… that you're…."

_Not in your right mind?_  
"Gay?"

"Yeah…."

"Stan, I—"

"Kyle, can I ask you something?"

"Sure…."

"Do you like me?"

"Like…?"

_Like me as a friend._  
"Like me as… something more than a friend?"

_No, of course you don't_.  
"Yeah, I guess I do. Is that gonna be a problem?"

"No, I guess it won't…."

"Hey Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

_No. _  
"No."

I stare into the eyes of my Super Best Friend. It feels somewhat odd to see him like this. To have just been rejected yet not seem so down about it. And maybe it's just me looking too deeply into things, but… I had expected him to stop talking to me, to want to avoid me altogether….

He stuffs his hands into his jeans, eyeing me with a certain something I can't place a finger on. It makes me uneasy, on edge, and I just can't stop staring at him…. "Please?"

"I said no."

And still I'm staring at him. Him.  
…what the hell? Why the hell am I looking at him like that?

He moves closer to me. And I back away. And he's _still_ moving closer to me.

"I wanna know what it feels like," Kyle says, taking another step. "Just once. Please, Stan?" My eyes grow wide; this isn't Kyle. It _can't_ be Kyle. I know him well enough; he could never be this forward with me. Knowing him he'd probably just ignore me for a while and insist on being fine. But he'd never actually approach me with feelings, let alone try something like… like….

I back away again. And that's when I realize I've been standing at the top of the stairs. I've backed up so much I've… I've….

And then I'm doing it again. Falling. If I hadn't been sure about this being a dream beforehand, there was no way of mistaking it now. I'm falling once again, just like every other nightmare I have. Yet for some reason it hadn't been me waking up in my room, it hadn't been Sparky I'd seen….

It had been so much worse.

I'm not sure if I want to wake up. There are no curious thoughts in my mind this time. I don't wonder when I'll hit the bottom; I only wonder how much further I'm getting away from Kyle. The Kyle who isn't Kyle. The Kyle who's replaced the Kyle I want to avoid. And it's then I'm reminded of why I'm probably having this dream, why a homosexual best friend has suddenly crossed my mind.

How the hell am I going to act around him? Will he even remember what he did last night? Had he been sober enough to remember? The three of them—Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman—had managed to finish twenty-four bottles on their own last night, and for some reason a part of me wishes Kyle had drunken his share….

I'm still falling. But I'm practically awake, aren't I? I'm functioning like I'm conscious; I'm thinking about real-time matters, non-imaginary things… there's no way this dream of falling is really me still dreaming, right? Or maybe I'm still wishing I'm falling because… because….

And then, I'm not falling. But only because my cell phone rings and I wake up.

Bright light is the first thing I see. Bright, blinding light, emerging from a slightly parted curtain. Perhaps intentionally, but it might've been like that last night.

…what time is it?

I look to my phone, but the caller display prevents me from actually seeing the time. And since it's Wendy who's calling—_because_ it's Wendy, more like—I pick up the phone.

"Hey Wends," I greet, trying to hide the exhaustion in my voice. It's a good thing I had tidied up last night, because there's no way I could've done all of it now…. "What's going on?"

"You're awfully awake," she says, sighing into the phone. "For a second I thought you'd be angry with me for calling this early."

I frown. "Depends, what time is it?" She makes a clicking sound with her tongue, showing her disapproval. It's not long before she tells me she finds it odd that there's no clock in Kyle's room.

But I'm not in Kyle's room. I… I think I'm in Ike's room.

"It's eight in the morning, Stan," she informs me, and I let out a groan. Only? Why can't I just go back to sleep…?

"Oh," I mutter, taking the time to look around. It definitely isn't Kyle's, and I don't think the room's big enough to be the master bedroom. But if this is really Ike's room, where's Ike? I'm pretty sure I remember him being a late sleeper. "In that case, I think I'd like to catch up on some sleep, then. I'll talk to you later, Wends."

"Stan," she almost whispers, and it's enough to catch my attention.

"Yeah, Babe? Something wrong?"

She hesitates for a moment. "Well, no, it's just… I was wondering if we could still… you know, do stuff later. Together." My lips form a circular shape; oh. That. The thing she's been bugging me about for… two days, I think? But a thought occurs to me as I think of how to respond to her. Why exactly had I been postponing it again? The idea of going out with her doesn't seem that horrifying of a prospect….

"Sure, Wends, of course." I think I've surprised her with my statement, because she doesn't immediately give me a response. "Tell you what. I'll head home now and catch up on some sleep. Pass by my place at around one and we can do stuff then. Sound good to you?"

"Y…yes. I mean, yeah, sure." I smile at the uneasiness in her voice, but that smile quickly vanishes when I see Kyle at the doorframe several feet away from me. Shit, I probably shouldn't have given him the face I just gave him…. But my mind races and begins to leap, and the only thing I can think of is if he remembers what he did last night….

What can I say to him if he does remember? What if he really does become the Kyle in my dreams? What if he begins demanding things from me? Hugs, kisses… and everything beyond that. I can't offer him that. I… I…. And what if he remembers, but never meant to? Would things easily return to normal? Could we pretend it never happened?

"Stan?" I blink, my hearing tuning back to the phone pressed against my ear. How long had I been out?

"What? Sorry, I…."

She sighs. "I said that's fine. I'll see you then, okay? I'll leave you to sleep."

"Love you," I say quickly, and with that I close my phone and pocket it. Wendy's voice no longer resounds in my head, which means….

"Hey," he mutters, but he gives me some sort of a wave.

"Hey."

"Don't think I should've drunk that much last night." From afar he looks fine, despite his sullen eyes; but for some reason I know he really isn't. By the looks of it he's probably going to heave at any moment, now. After all he doesn't really drink much of it, and granted he's taken such a large amount in a rare circumstance… I'm surprised he didn't die or something.

…why the hell did I even suggest such a thing? Some friend I am.

I grunt as Kyle takes a seat on the bed. I don't want to seem angry with him, so I quickly join him and take a seat next to him. Yet even though it might just be the hangover, something about him feels different. Something… something that might not be for the best. "How'd you end up in here?"

"Dunno," I reply truthfully. I really don't remember. I was cleaning up, yeah, but I'm pretty sure there was nothing to clean up in Ike's room. Speaking of which…. "This _is_ Ike's room, right?"

"Of course, Stan. You've been in here before."

"Where is he? I thought he hated waking up early?"

"He does. He's making sure you didn't miss anything last night when you volunteered to be our house maid." There's a moment of silence between us as I turn away, embarrassed. If he wants to put it that way…. I was only doing a favor for him. Though I suppose a bigger favor would be to get Kenny and Cartman out of the house before his parents arrive. Not because they're here without their permission, but because they're in an even worse state that Kyle is in….

I get up from the bed, Kyle's eyes not once leaving me. And even though it isn't the same gaze as the one dream-Kyle gave me, it's still unnerving. "Well, I told Wendy I'd get some shuteye at my place, so I'll catch you another time. Tomorrow, maybe?"

"Yeah, I guess." A silence. I feel like I should probably go, but my feet don't want to. They won't let me. But why?

Am I looking for some sort of confirmation? Something to tell me I can relax around Kyle? That's what it feels like, yet I don't even know what good it'll do for me, anyway. Or is supposed to do something good for him?—but then why would _I_ be the one to care, then?

I think Kyle knows. Or at least, he knows what I'm thinking about. But whichever of the two it is, the words that soon come out of Kyle's mouth are words I'm not sure I had wanted to hear after all.

"I'm sorry."

I blink. "About…?"

He frowns, turning away. "Last night."

And that's it. That's everything I need to know—he knows. Whether he was conscious in doing it or someone told him… he knows what he did. And I doubt it's the latter because barely anyone was conscious to actually witness it.

"It's… it's not your fault," I stammer, still rooted to the spot. "I mean it… it's not your fault or anything. You couldn't… you couldn't control what you were doing…."

I'm not really sure where this is going. I probably sound like a girl too, which is probably the reason why Kyle's giving me a very odd look. I really,_really_ don't know why I'm being so affected by this, but….

Kyle only confirms my suspicions. "Why the hell are you so shaken up anyway?" he asks, standing up from the bed. "You aren't the one that did anything…."

I nod solemnly. He's right; he's the one who kissed me. I didn't kiss him. I shouldn't be the one so worried about this. But yet… but yet, I'm not completely satisfied yet. There's still something I want to ask….

I gulp down something bitter. I want to ask him so badly. I want to know if this is something I need to worry about, something that might get in the way of our friendship. I want to know if he meant it, if he wants it to mean something, if I should _let_ it mean something…. But yet I'm afraid, afraid to ask, afraid how to word it, afraid it'll be too much for him, afraid I'll lose him….

In the end I word it as simply as I can. "Did you mean it?"

He stares at me blankly. "What?"

"Did you mean it," I repeat, mainly because I can't word it any better without making a fool of myself. "Did you mean it when you kissed me?"

"Of course I didn't fucking mean it, I was d…" but his voice trails off. His face blanks, more than before, and his expression is entirely unreadable. His eyes are incredibly bloodshot now, and he's trembling, shaking, shuddering, and I can't do a thing about it. I don't even know why's he's suddenly doing this! We'd already been on the topic; why's he only breaking down now…?

"Shit, Kyle, you…?" I don't finish my sentence; I immediately rush forward and grab a hold of him. He doesn't look at me, but he at least stops his violent movements while I'm holding him. Yet… yet I don't understand… and maybe he doesn't either….

"I…." He bites his lip, still looking in every direction except my own. I push him gently so he's seated back on the bed once more, and it's only after a few moments when he's calmed down some.

"Kyle?"

"I… I kissed you?" And it's then when he looks at me. Cold, distant orbs of green, welled tears reflecting a light from somewhere behind me. His mouth is slightly parted, cheeks quite red—I can't tell if that's disbelief, shock, embarrassment or anger on his face….

But something doesn't fit. If… if he didn't know about the kiss, then… then what was he apologizing for?

Kyle shakes his head when I voice my thoughts to him. "No, no, I was apologizing for that thing Kenny and I were doing with our shirts! Ike said we were trying to imitate some famous celebrity…." Kyle hiccups, turning away once more. "But… but you didn't a… answer my…."

He doesn't finish. He doesn't need to. We both know what the end of his sentence is. We both know what he's after. "Yeah, you did…."

Kyle punches the mattress.

The only thing I can do is to look at him. I'm not sure if a massage would cheer him up. When did things suddenly take such a drastic turn for the worse? It wasn't even a week ago when he was fine, when I didn't have to worry about….

Wait, _was_ he fine back then? Or had I just been a bad friend in missing all these hints I should've seen? But what normal friend goes around looking for clues to his best friend's unknown homosexuality?

"Did you mean it?" I repeat, but I get no answer. Not for a while.

I wonder what Ike's doing right now. Better yet, I wonder if Ike could just happen to walk in here and save me from this awkward silence between us.

When he does speak, he doesn't say the words I expect him to say. "Did you read my email yet?"

I stare at him blankly. "…email?"

He nods. I frown at him and arch my brow. I try to think; what email?—but then it occurs to me what email he's talking about, the email he told me so long ago to read, the one I still haven't looked at….

"No, why?"

He sighs inwardly and deeply. "…never mind," Kyle concludes, rubbing his fingers together. He bites his lip one last time before looking to me again. "You said you had somewhere to go?"

I nod. "Yeah, but…."  
But…?

I sigh and continue. "I wanna make sure you're all right," I breathe out at last. He eyes me curiously, but there's a distinct… emptiness… in his gaze. Or at least, that's what I want to call it, because I'm really not familiar with the look he's giving me.

"You aren't mad at me?" he asks, to which I shake my head.

"Of course not, dude. It's not like you didn't mean it, anyway…." He hesitates for a moment before hanging his head. Wait… does that mean…? "I mean, you were drunk, so… so you didn't know what you were doing…."

"Stan…." And then he does it. He stands up from his bed and walks toward me, and instinctively I back up. It's like the dream over again, except this Kyle isn't as confident in what he's doing. But does he even want to accomplish the same goal? I can't comprehend this Kyle, and the idea that I can't even understand my Super Best Friend completely blows my mind….

He stops moving. So do I. "I… I'm sorry."

"For?"

"What I did. For… for…."

"Kissing me?" I offer.

He nods. "For that… and for… for this."—and before I can ask him what he's talking about he's kissing me again. I don't pull away; it's hardly even a kiss. Granted Kyle's confidence isn't very high, it's more of his lips just… touching mine. And I'm not sure why I'm not responding, why I'm not moving away, why I'm not doing_anything_. But the fact remains that whether I react to it or not he's still _kissing_ me, and this time he's conscious in doing it….

And then it occurs to me how wrong this is, how this might count as cheating on Wendy, how Kyle's a guy, how I'm a guy, how we're supposed to be friends, how stuff like this isn't supposed to happen between two friends, two _best_ friends, two _male_ friends….

I push him away. Maybe a bit too forcefully.

"Kyle…" I mutter pathetically. "Kyle, I…."

"Does that answer your question?" Kyle asks quietly.

I… I don't know what to tell him…. He meant the kiss. But does that… but does that mean he…?

"Kyle, I'm… I'm gonna go…."

I leave without looking at him. Out of the room, down the hall, down the stairs, past Ike, through the door, down the street…. I need to get away from there, go to a place where I can think….

It doesn't matter to me whether Kyle was conscious last night. He meant to kiss me. He's probably been _meaning_ to kiss me, too. But why hadn't I seen it before…? Why can't I see it now?

I walk faster. I… I don't understand any of this. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to make anything out of this. It_is_ Kyle's problem, isn't it? It shouldn't… it shouldn't affect our friendship. Yet it feels so wrong, and I'm not even sure if it'll be the same, looking at him, talking at him,_knowing_ he sees me under… under a different light.

Irritated, I pull out my phone and begin punching in numbers. I don't want to think anymore. I need someone to talk to, someone to vent this to….

"What?" an irritated voice booms into my ear. I stop walking at the sound; why did I dial Kyle's number?

"Oh, uh…." Wrong number. But for some reason I can't say it; the words are lodged in my throat.

For a brief moment I wonder how Kyle's doing, what he's feeling. But I don't want to think about it too long, because there's some feeling that pains me every time I think about… this… and it makes me feel very awkward….

"Stan?" But I still can't think of words to say, so I do the only thing my mind can think of.

I hang up.

I stare at my phone for several moments. Why had I called Kyle? Though it wasn't like I wanted to call anyone in particular, I should've at least known to not call the person I'm currently having problems with….

Was it out of instinct? Habit?

Grumbling under my breath, I focus on making sure I call someone who isn't Kyle. Really, though, the only person I can really call is Wendy, and so I punch in her number before putting my cell phone to my ear.

"…Wends?"

"Hey… Stan?" She pauses for a moment. "I thought you said you were gonna lie in for a bit?"

"I changed my mind," I tell her quickly. "Do you mind if… if I come by your place?"

"Sure, of course. When?"

"Uh…." I turn the corner and grumble under my breath. "Like now?"

"Now…?" She hums to herself as I pass several familiar houses. At this point I don't really wanna take no for an answer, granted I'm almost at her house and I don't feel like going home…. "Yeah, that's fine. I'll be downstairs in a few."

I sigh. "Thanks, Wends…."

"You okay, though?" she asks me with some degree of worry in her voice. "You sound… I dunno, a little shaken up."

"I'm fine," I tell her. It's not a lie, really… right? "I'll see you then."  
And I hang up. Before she can respond.

I spend the remaining two minutes to her house in silence. My thoughts are extremely scattered. I try thinking about Wendy, how I'm going to have fun with her today, how I should only be thinking about her; yet somehow Kyle keeps flashing in my mind, no matter how much I try to not think of him.

I… I don't know. I don't want to think about him right now. I'm not mad at him; it's just… I don't know… how to….

Wendy's waiting for me at her door.

"Stan, are you okay?" she asks worriedly, running up to meet me. I nod my head, insisting I'm fine, but she doesn't believe a word of it. "Come inside, you look _terrible_…."

She closes the door behind me and leads me into the kitchen. She's doing some chores—putting away clean dishes or something—and I briefly catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection of one of the plates on the counter. I don't look as terrible as she's claimed; in fact, I think I look rather decent, minus the disheveled hair and the somewhat red and tired eyes….

"You sure you're okay?" Wendy asks me, looking over shoulder as she begins to continue putting away dishes from the dishwasher. Yet her words only barely register in my head; the only thing that processes is Kyle's words….

"Stan?"

"I'm fine," I tell her, heaving a sigh. But am I really?

"No you aren't," she tells me, as if I had voiced the question aloud. "Stan, you're obviously bothered by something, I don't see why—"

"I love you."

She stares blankly at me. "What?"

I stare at her as she turns to face me. But in my mind it is Kyle I'm seeing, and as I repeat to her what I had just said, the same words, with Kyle's voice, echo through my mind once more.

"I love you."

"I know, you do, but why—"

"I love you," I repeat again. I love Wendy, not Kyle. God Kyle, why are you doing this to me?

"Stan, I don't understand, I know you—Stan?"

"Wendy, I-I…." I'm stuttering now, slowly making my way closer to her. "Wendy, I… I love you, I—"

"I know you do!" she says yet again, and for a brief moment I almost catch a fearful glint in her eye. "Stan, what're you…? Stan!"

I love you, Wendy.

I press my lips onto her. She doesn't complain, but she doesn't respond either; this is what I want. Kyle's words are still reverberating through my head, and I try my best to ignore them. This is what I want. Wendy, not Kyle. And screw the fact that Kyle's words, Kyle's face keeps popping into my mind. It's just bothering me, that's all. I love Kyle as my best friend. I know it's Wendy whom I want.

"Stan, get—get off!" but I don't, I _can't_, I need more. I need to prove to myself she's what I want, and with each second of this kiss I slowly get there. I love Wendy; she loves me.

I'm pressing her into the wall now, but it only makes me want her more and more. For all I know Kyle's just confused the same way I am; we're only best friends, nothing more. I'd never want to kiss him, let alone make love to him; with Wendy, I know I'd eventually reach there. I might even get there now.

But with one forceful push all those feelings vanish. A collision with the wall behind me and I'm slapped right back to the present, a devastated and disheveled Wendy before me, eyes full of rage and shock, and our shallow breathing filling the air between us.

And even now, Kyle's implied confession is the only thing that crosses my thoughts. "Wendy…" I mutter pathetically. "Wendy, I—!"

"Get away from me," she seethes, and reluctantly I comply. What have I done?

"Wendy, please listen to me—"

"No, Stan." She eyes me with something I can't quite place a finger on, but it's quickly replaced with fear. "Stan… what's happened to you?"

"I'm…"  
I'm… I'm what, exactly?  
"…I'm not well."

"I figured that out, Stan, but… it's like I don't even know you."

She's crying.

"Wendy… I'm sorry. I really am. I… I love you…."

"I know you do," she snaps, "and you nearly _raped_ me to prove it! God, Stan, I told you, I already know!" She looks to her feet as I stare blankly at her.

I love her… there's no way I could love Kyle, now.  
Right?

But if I told her why I did all this…. I hadn't even realized I was being so forceful on her. And now I've just fucked up everything. But if I want to get back with her this badly, that _must_ mean I love her, right?

Right?

This is your fault, Kyle.

* * *

Posted: November 20th, 2007.  
Five months until my birthday. 

Just a friendly reminder: Please review. It helps authors know who they shouldn't feed to their pet snakes.


	14. Prayer

♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

_Prayer_

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦

The day goes by very slowly. It's very quiet, very long, and very lonely. My phone remains silent the entire time, something that usually only happens when Wendy breaks up with me. But then, maybe that _is_ what happened; all Wendy had asked me to do was leave, yet it feels like she'd broken up with me, implicatively, however silently she had done it….

And what makes it worse is that it feels like Kyle had broken up with me too. Though I should probably steer clear from that analogy, granted along that theory _I_ was the one who "broke up" with him, it feels just the same between him and me as it does between Wendy and me. But the circumstances are so, so different, yet… yet they're producing the same result.

Normally when Wendy breaks up with me I run to Kyle. Normally when I have feuds with Kyle I spend more time with Wendy. But at the same time…? They don't really cancel each other out, because otherwise things would be okay and I wouldn't have had to spend the day in solitude with nothing to do. The both of them kinda… doubled the effect.

With all the free time on my hands I had managed to attain a more rational conscience once more. Perhaps a little too late, but better now that later. Never before had I wanted to walk Sparky so many times in a single period of time, and with all the time I had to myself I had given him a walk at least three times. It might've been four. I don't remember.

There were several things I had decided in the amount of time I had had for reflection. First, none of this is Kyle's fault. Between moments of reasoning and pure confusion, I had come to the conclusion that it was my own reactions and thoughts that caused what I did to Wendy, and that what I did was probably not Kyle's intention. And though I badly wanted someone else to put the blame on, someone else to take the burden of these consequences off of me… they were truly my own.

Second, I need to go about apologizing to Wendy again. It sucks as it is to not have Kyle there to ask for help when I need it. I need Wendy more than ever. I need _her_. And maybe not under the same light that caused the same incident earlier on in the day, but I need her to be the someone I know I can rely on, someone I know who'll be there for me…. I wouldn't want to have this as our final breakup.

Third, I should probably do something to fix my relationship with Kyle. But even with that resolution in mind, I don't know what's going to happen between Kyle and me now. There's definitely no way things are going to be the same. I mean, it's not just a drunken mistake anymore. It's out there. Kyle wants me. And though that still bothers me somewhat, I probably shouldn't be letting something like his orientation get in the way of our friendship.

And finally, I should probably pay more attention to the things around me. Because, somehow, I don't think Kyle began liking me overnight. And I'm pretty sure whenever Wendy gets angry at me it isn't just because she can. But even with a resolve to start noticing things, it's like I just happen to keep _missing_ the important things around me….

The clock reads roughly midnight, now. I remain seated at my bed, looking around my room for distractions, looking for _something_ to do. I would've thought I'd be able to sleep, granted how early I had woken up—but for some reason I can't. I don't feel tired; maybe it's because I've barely done anything all day, because I've stayed locked in my room for practically the entire course of the day, since I was sent home from Wendy's house.

My eyes fall upon the almost-blank wall of my room. It's the wall I've reserved for pictures of my friends, yet it's still devoid of anything except for two particular photos: one of Wendy, one of Kyle.

It's like they're mocking me. They're smiling at me, eyes full of happiness—or, in Kyle's case, red. I'm in neither of those photos, as I had been the one to take the pictures… yet… yet…. The photos alone seem as if they're supposed to be a painful reminder of how things were not even a day ago, how I had been satisfied and content with the both of them, how they would probably still be smiling at me that way if things hadn't….

I turn away and look at my computer, but my mind is still on their faces. Wendy… her silky black hair, her pretty eyes, that _smile_, her laugh…. Then there's Kyle, his… no. I can't describe him, I _shouldn't_ describe him; I shouldn't put him at the same level as Wendy. I can only note his hair, his eyes, how incredibly Jewish he can be at times….

And suddenly it feels like something clicks. Thinking about Kyle, looking at the computer…. Then a second time and it's then when I make the connection: _Kyle's email_.

But do I really want to see what's in it, now? Hasn't he already told me his feelings?—isn't that what this was all about? Or was there something still that he hadn't said… would I _want_ to know more…?

_He's your friend_, I find myself saying inside my head; _you should probably give him a chance_.

_Tap._ And so I move forward to the computer and boot it up. But it's almost like I'm mentally preparing myself for what I might read. Whatever happens, no matter what the email says, I won't hold it against Kyle.

_Tap_. Sparky whimpers. I turn to him, curiously, but he remains silent afterward. Frowning, I return to the computer screen, which happily tells me my computer is still booting up.

_Tap_. I frown a second time. That noise…. Sparky's whimpering yet again, and curiously I get up from my chair. The tapping sound's coming from the window… and though it's probably just some bird, I decide to check it out.

I open the window. No bird. Nothing.

"Down here," mutters a familiar voice. Straining my eyes, I peer into the darkness below me, though I don't see much. I know someone's there—I can barely make out an outline—but by the roundness of the figure's head I think it's Kenny… and now that I think about it, it _sounds_ like him, too.

"Ken?"

"…yeah." He sounds very weak. It might just be he's tired, though… or maybe still hung over from the alcohol. But granted it's _this_ long after he had been drunk…. "This is very… Romeo and Juliet, don't you think?"

He grunts. "Stan… you think I could come up?"

"Here?" I ask to clarify, and he nods. "Uh… sure… I'll go get the door." I frown, curious as to why Kenny wants to see me at this time of night, but I quickly shrug it off. Sparky looks at me longingly—he obviously wants to come with me—but I ignore him and unlock my door, tiptoeing silently down the hall. I'm not sure if everyone's asleep yet, but… I don't wanna take that risk.

It isn't long before I'm at the door. Sure enough, when I unlock it and open it, I find Kenny standing in front of me. Yet he looks fucking terrible; he's supporting his stomach, almost doubling over, and from what I can tell he's sporting a black eye. And Kenny, the bastard; he just smiles when he sees me, even raising his hand to wave a hello, almost as if nothing had happened to him.

"Shit, Ken…." Kenny puts a finger to his lips and steps inside. I shut the door quietly behind him. "You… you look…."

"Terrible," he finishes, and I nod. "You think I could stay in your room for a while?"

I nod profusely. "Sure, dude, but… you sure I'm the one to be running to?" I take in a breath. "Maybe I should call—"

"No," he whispers harshly, the blues of his eyes gleaming with the night's light. It only occurs to me how dark of a room we're standing in. "I'll… I'll explain everything later…." He makes a motion to the stairs, but it's only after several seconds when I realize he probably can't even go up the flight of stairs without some help. I quickly dart forward to help him, and it takes about a few minutes before we're in the hallway toward my room.

I look to Kenny's limping form next to me and frown. He doesn't' belong here; he really doesn't. I dunno if I could even give him moral support, as I seem to have fucked up every one of my relationships so far. But even if I _could_ support him, I wouldn't be any help at all to his injuries. My knowledge really isn't that great in that area… and I doubt he'd want me to wake my mom to help him.

He takes a seat on the bed once we're in the room. I make sure to close and lock the door so we're not interrupted—at least, I think that's the way he wants it. And I'm sure if he weren't in this state and instead in his perverted mood he'd be agreeing with me.

"What… what happened?" He looks at me from the corner of his eye, and I recognize that look immediately: It's the same one Kyle gave me however long ago it was. But if Kenny was hurting now… had Kyle been hurting back then? But more importantly… had _I_ caused that?

Kenny mumbles something under his breath but I don't quite catch what he says, so I ask him to repeat. "They're…." He bites his lip and looks straight to the floor; I walk carefully to his side and take a seat next to him, placing an arm around his trembling form. "They're… still there, Stan…."

"Who?" I ask, and though I do have some ideas I don't want to make suggestions.

"My sister… Kevin… they're all… they're all still there… with _him_." He only just breathes the last word, raising his hand to the swelling around his eye. _Him_…? Unless he's referring to his dad…?

Kenny affirms my statement. "Yeah… him."

"Did he…?" I pause to notion to his bruises. "Did he do… that?" Kenny pauses for a moment, looking around my room. I'm not sure what he's looking for—maybe in case someone could hear him?—but after realizing that Sparky's our only eavesdropper he merely nods his head.

"It's my fault," he mutters, looking to the ground. And though I try telling him it isn't, he merely repeats it to himself again. "Couldn't keep my damn mouth shut…."

I don't interrupt this time. Instead I rub his back encouragingly, not too hard in case something's hurting back there. I think he flashes me a weak smile for my effort, but instead it looks like he's got diarrhea….

It's after a little bit when he continues. "I had to go and… I should've…."

"Take your time," I tell him; "you don't even have to tell me now if you don't want."

"I… I asked him why he's complaining about… money, food… if he doesn't even have a job of his own…." He gulped, leaning in to me. "And… and he hit me… but I deserved it—"

"No you didn't."

"Yes I did, Stan, I spoke out of line…." Kenny trembles yet again, this time looking directly at me. His blue eyes are fierce and quite intimidating, yet at the same time they look scared and hurt…. "But it was selfish of me, selfish that I… ran out…."

"Why?" I ask, but immediately I realize it had been a mistake.

"_Why_?" he challenges before coughing into his hand once more. "I've left my family with the _monster_, that's why!" There's a silence between us as he takes rest on my lap once more; leave it to me to have asked such a stupid question. But then again, if I fuck up my relationship with Kenny, it wouldn't exactly be the first…. I don't want to ruin this, though. Kenny needs me right now. I already don't have Kyle and Wendy as it is; I need him, too.

"Kenny… how long has he been… you know… hitting you?" I heave a breath after the question, hoping it hadn't been a bad one; but Kenny doesn't seem angry at my asking, so I feel somewhat better.

"For… for a while, Stan, I'm sorry, I should've told you guys, but he… he threatened me, and that's why I don't want to go to the emergency room, because they'll all figure out what's been happening to me, and I don't want that, I really don't, because he'll probably hurt them and I don't want that, they don't even know he's been hitting me, I've been taking all their beatings for them, and I want to protect them and I—"

"Calm down, Ken," I whisper soothingly, patting his back some more. He looks at me for a moment, lost in the middle of his rant, but eventually he nods, returning to my lap. He doesn't speak or move; he just lies there. And I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do, how I'm supposed to act, what I'm supposed to say….

"So… what now…?" Kenny opens his eyes and repositions himself so that he's staring up at me. Somehow I think we both know what's going to happen next, but I'd rather hear it from his mouth instead.

"What… what'd you mean?"

I bite my lip. "Well… you ran out of your house… I'm sure it's not the best of ideas to just prance back in there… or at least not tonight." He shrugs to that, merely looking away without a word. "So… you need a place to stay then, right?"

A pause. "Yeah, I guess…." He looks at me, his face laden with an expression I can't recognize. "You… you don't mind me staying here for the night, then?"

I look at him blankly. "No Ken, I'm gonna force you out of my house and make you sleep on the streets. Of course I'll let you stay over for a bit." He blinks; I probably shouldn't have used sarcasm. But after several moments he nods in acknowledgement, and he stands up from my bed.

"You okay, now?" I ask him, to which he merely nods.

"I'm fine… how about you?"

"Me?" I can only manage to stare. Am I okay? Of course I am… but I don't even know what he's referring to. I mean, if anything that's a question I need to be asking Kenny, since he's the one who's just come out of…. "Why wouldn't I be fine?"

Kenny shrugs. "Kyle mentioned something about you being… I dunno, not in the right state of mind?" Again I'm at a loss of words. Shit. Kenny knows. And suddenly that realization sinks into me, the fact that I've completely forgotten about the weight of this whole deal with Kyle and Wendy, how it seems forever ago, how I haven't even solved the problem yet. And the fact that Kyle's told Kenny… would that mean he'd tell other people, too? Or was that only because he needed someone to vent on, someone to trust….

I lose my train of thought, no longer aware of where it was headed or what I wanted to get out of it. Instead I find Kenny looking at me with a bemused expression, and I can almost see a smile on his face. It's just Kenny being proud, knowing he's right about something….

"He hasn't told me anything too big," Kenny says, noting my expression. "Nothing enough to tell me what's happened. But my first conscious moment today was seeing him with his head cradled in his arms on the kitchen table, so… I asked him what was up."

I gulp. "What'd he say?"

"Feud with you. Nothing else." For some reason hearing that makes me smile, that maybe I really _can_ still trust Kyle, that he really won't go telling the whole world. But then again, what would he be telling the world?—that he's gay and wants to bon….

Kenny coughs into his hand once again. "He doesn't really wanna talk about it, to be honest. Said if anything I should be asking you."

"Me?" Kenny merely nods. How had we gotten from his problems with his abusive dad to my problems with Wendy?—no wait, he doesn't know about that. He and Kyle both only know about the tension between me and Kyle… neither of the two knows about what I… I did to Wendy.

Shit…. I tried_raping_ her. I could get… put in prison for that….

"Wanna talk about it?" I sigh under my breath. If anything I think _Kyle's_ the one who needs to talk about things. I've already spent the entire day talking with myself; Kyle's the one that probably needs it, especially if what Kenny said was true. But then, he probably could've talked it with himself, too….

"Sure."

So I tell him. Almost everything. Nothing about Wendy of course—I think I'm going to keep that to myself for a while—but I tell him everything else. How Kyle had kissed me while he was drunk, how we had had a misunderstanding earlier this morning….

And then it occurs to me….

"Does this have anything to do with that other time you ranted to me about him?" Kenny asks, raising an eyebrow. That other time?—the time when Kyle had been acting oddly, when I had run to Kenny, asking him if I was failing Kyle as a friend. And now that I think about it… it probably was. Hadn't that been around the time he first talked to me about the email he sent me?

The email….

I turn to my computer: It's still on. And maybe back then… he must've been acting like that because he'd thought I'd already read his email… because he thought I knew what he had told me…. And he had every right to, I suppose, because I completely fucked up our friendship when he did get around to telling me….

"Continue," he says, and I frown at him. Maybe it's because he's finally relaxed, but… it kinda feels like I'm the one with the problems now and not him. And though I suppose in reality we both have issues to deal with at the moment, he's not really acting like he's just been beat up.

After he assures me he's fine, I continue on. There isn't much left to tell him, though; I tell how he had somehow ended up apologizing for the kiss, how I had run out… how I had ruined everything….

"How do you know you've ruined things?" he asks, though I have an easy answer for him.

"You told me he wasn't too happy with things…. Besides, I accidentally called him afterward, and he didn't seem like the happiest person alive." I sigh, turning away. Why Kenny had to be the one to play Devil's Advocate…. I think I liked it better when _I_ was the one asking the questions….

Kenny heaves a great sigh, and I get off my bed and seat myself in front of the computer. I pause for several moments, random thoughts fleeting through my conscience; and ultimately I decide to turn it off. "Stan," he mutters, coming to a stop in front of. "As much as I can't thank you enough for letting me stay here—"

"Don't mention it."

"—and as much as I wish I could do something in return, I can't really help you with this." He looks to me, sorrow and pity in his eyes. I wonder; had I been looking at him like that moments before? Though I suppose now's a bad time to be thinking about that…. "That's something you need to do on your own… and I'm sure whatever you end up doing he'll be thankful for it."

"You think so?" I ask, raising my eyebrow in doubt. "He likes me. He fucking handed his heart to me on a silver platter, and the only thing I could do was run away. You think he's gonna just take my hand and accept any form of apology I could give him?"

"How do you know he likes you?" Kenny challenges, his eyes narrowing. I open my mouth to argue back, but my retort dies. Kyle, he… he _does_ like me, right…? But now that I think about it, he probably hasn't even said it in person, yet…. "Granted if he kissed you again he probably _does_ like you, but I'm just saying. Maybe you're looking too much into this."

I grumble; maybe I am. Maybe this really isn't as bad as it seems. Maybe I actually_could_ just go up to Kyle and fix things, do the same with Wendy, and simply move on with life and go back to having a girlfriend and a best friend. Maybe life isn't really as dramatic as I'm making it out to be. I just wish life went back to the way it was. Or maybe I could go back to being the oblivious kid who didn't see how people were changing around me. I wish I could go back to treating others without having to think twice, to not have to make sure I don't ruin whatever I have left with my friends….

"Anyway…." He sighs before coughing into his hand once more. "I'm starting to get a little tired. You don't mind if I sleep, do you?"

"No, not at all…." I motion toward the bed. "If you need anything, just ask."

"You can sleep there, if you want," he says, shaking his head. "I don't mind the floor."

"I don't mind, either," I say with a laugh. "Besides, Sparky will love the idea of me on the floor. Might as well." Kenny gives it a shrug before pulling himself under the covers. He flashes me a smile before closing his eyes.

"I'm worried about them," he says to himself, though loud enough so I can hear him. "And though I'm not sure if I'll ever get any sleep from this tonight… I trust your words." He moves his head in my direction and smiles, eyes still closed. "Everything's gonna be fine."

"Yeah… for the both of us."

And then he falls asleep.

The room becomes silent once more. For a few moments I just watch him, looking at his sleeping form as it rises and falls with his breathing. He must be tired, especially since he thought he wouldn't be able to sleep from all the worrying. His body's too worn out… but that means he'll probably be getting nightmares later on.

After a few moments I turn away from him and to my clock: It's almost one in the morning and I'm back to square one, with nothing to do and insomnia flowing through my veins. My eyes scan the room once more, as I had done before, in an attempt to keep me occupied.

Kenny plagues my mind; I still don't know what I'm going to do about him. Though I still think he needs to go to Hell's Pass, I want to respect his want of not going there. But who'll tend to his bruises? What if he's broken something? Would he be okay with my mom checking him out?—would she freak out and bring him to the hospital against his will?

It's too much to think about. With the guilt setting in from earlier today, mixed with the responsibility of bearing Kenny on my shoulders… all I really want to do is sleep. But this damned insomnia is preventing me from doing just that, and all it's making me do is to over-think about things I don't really want….

My eyes fall upon a book near my bed, its red cover shining somewhat from the light in the room. It catches my attention; I walk quietly toward it, ignoring Sparky as he follows me at my feet. I pick it up and stare at it, letting my eyes examine its features. It's really the only thing I can think of doing with it, yet just staring at it triggers memories….

It's been a while since I last wondered about guardian angels. I've never really needed to think about them; I've been content with life as it was, and I've never really needed to question it. Yet now, presented with both boredom and insomnia, the thoughts are quickly entering my head, quickly consuming me with….

Somehow looking at the Bible makes me want to believe in guardian angels all the more. I probably need it right now; hell, _Kenny_ needs a guardian angel. And somehow I realize that if guardian angels _do_ exist, Kenny could probably use his right about now.

I don't know what makes me do it, but…. I find myself coming down to one knee, then two… and suddenly I'm bowing my head, ignoring Sparky's tongue licking my knee….

"To my guardian angel," I mutter quietly, closing my eyes. The whole idea seems rather ludicrous; I'm _praying_ to my guardian angel. But it feels so weird; is it like praying to God? "I… I'm not sure if you exist or anything, but… if you do I'd really like your help. My friend, Kenny, the guy on my bed, also needs your help, so….

"I want you to protect him. I want him to be okay, to make sure he gets through this. I want you to protect his family…. I'd like Kenny to be okay again, to not have to worry about his father and what he's doing…. I want him to be able to trust that his siblings will be okay.

"And finally…." I pause. I wonder if I'm just talking to myself, if anyone will actually hear me, if my prayers will actually be answered. But even if they won't, talking them out seems to do me some good…. "Guide me over the next few days. I really wanna make things right with Wendy and Kyle, and… I don't wanna fu—screw things up again. So yeah, it'd be nice if you could do that, if you exist…."

I open my eyes. Nothing's any different than it was when I had closed my eyes. But I hadn't really been expecting any immediate changes anyway, so….

I drop the Bible on my desk and pace quietly around the room. There's really nothing I can do now except to hope for the best and to hope my guardian angel will look after all of us. Though… I hope I didn't ask him to do too much.

I sigh, finding myself in front of my blank wall again. Two faces are staring at me, each with smiles across their faces. My girlfriend… my best friend… both not in the best terms with me at the moment….

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.  
Suddenly… staring at their faces doesn't seem so painful anymore.

* * *

Posted: November 25th, 2007. 

Just a friendly reminder: Review, please! It lets authors know who the cool kids are.


	15. Wings

♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

_Wings_

♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦§♦

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

♦

"…damn bitch don't even know what's best for 'er. God _damn_, that woman better start bringing somethin' other than that whining mouth of 'ers. The family's sufferin' from lacks of food and she don't even bring home the bacon!—damn, I hadn't had myself some bacon since—"

"You don't even have a job of your own; who're you to say what she—"

"You interruptin' _me_, boy?"

"Mr. McKormick, please, put him—!"

"Stan, stay—!"

"You disrespectin' me, boy?

"…no… no, sir…."

A thud.

"You know the drill, Kenny. Siddown while I go get the belt."

"Mr. McKormick, you can't—!"

"You ain't even a part-ah this family! Get your trashy hands outta 'ere!"

And with that Mr. McKormick—Kenny's father—pushes me away from him, just as he had done with Kenny. Except I don't hit the wall Kenny's on; I can feel myself thrown backwards, but I just remain in motion. My body never makes contact with anything, only continuing to move in a backwards direction.

Mr. McKormick fades, and then Kenny fades, and soon my surroundings disappear along with them. The light slowly dims, all until there becomes nothing left except an absolute darkness that envelopes me. And I never stop moving; the feeling of falling becomes familiar, and I welcome it with outstretched arms.

I wake up in that manner: Head tilted back, arms spread wide, palms facing the ceiling, legs spread far apart. Crumpled bed sheets lay beneath me, and by the looks of it I probably look like I've actually fallen onto the floor from that dream. But of course I haven't; it's just like every other dream I've had of falling, and the only thing that makes this one special is me not waking up in bed. After all Kenny had the bed, which only proved all the more that me being at the McKormick's was nothing more than a dream.

I push myself up to a sitting position as a strange sensation courses through me. It feels so much different waking up today. Probably for good reason; it's the first time in a while I've had to sleep on an uncomfortable something, Kenny had just taken refuge in my room, and I had slept with a new, set resolution. Yet the feeling I'd have expected to come with that wasn't the one I was currently experiencing….

I turn slowly and look around the room. I don't hear Sparky. From this level of the room, I don't see him either. Nor do I see Kenny….

I stand up abruptly, and I feel my jaw drop. Kenny isn't there. Instead of seeing the eyes of the sky and the hair of the sun, I see the sheets of clouds; I'm met only with folded bedsheets of white, pillows piled neatly on top. I don't see Kenny snuggled deep within them, resting as he should, or do I see _any_ sign of him ever being in here.

…had that all been a dream?—last night, had he really come by my house at all?

The thought passes briefly through my head. It's rather illogical, being as I had spent so much time awake yesterday I'm _sure_ I couldn't have been dreaming or imagining it. So then… then why was there no sign of Kenny anywhere? For all I know Kenny might just be an early awakener; he could've just gotten up early and left before I noticed. Though I'm not really sure why he'd leave, considering I told him he could stay….

The other option is that he's still here, but just not in the room.

I quickly exit the room to search out my house. The shower's occupied, though that doesn't necessarily mean Kenny's in there. I head downstairs and find it empty there; the kitchen sink is empty, and the pillows are neatly placed on the couch. Sparky's leash, which usually hangs from the key holder, is also missing, which raises a curious thought: Had Kenny taken Sparky for a walk?—after all, I don't think anyone else in my family gave him walks very often.

Sighing, I return upstairs and seat myself on the floor next to the bathroom door. If he wasn't walking Sparky he'd be in there, so waiting to find out was the only thing I could really do at the moment. There isn't really anything else I can do, anyway….

I wonder how Kyle and Wendy are doing. No doubt they're both still mad at me, but it makes me wonder if either of them has ever thought of me since. I'm sure Wendy has, as she's probably had to think of whether she should break up with me for what I did. But it's not as bad with her, because at least I know that if we do break up we'll end up together eventually. Whether by her or me, though probably the former, at least a parting won't last long.

But with Kyle—I'm not sure. It's not often we get disagreements or fights. We'd fought over some stupid ice man during our elementary years, and we had fought it out until our issues were resolved. But that had been when we were immature and young, and I hope that we won't have to resort to that measure again. Although… that method would probably be better than some of the other ways my mind can think of.

Another thought suddenly occurs to me: What if I never make amends with Kyle? What if this… this _thing_ becomes the fall of our friendship? What if he doesn't accept my apology? I suppose the most obvious outcome would be that we'd stop being as close of friends as we once were. But would that mean having to find a new best friend? Would I try to find someone to replace his spot? Would that mean I'd start spending more time with Wendy?

The sound of the door opening alerts me, but my excitement quickly fades once I realize it's only Shelley.

"Ew,_turd_, get the fuck away!" I quickly stand up and back away toward the opposite wall. "You're such a fucking perv!"

I raise my hands defensively. "No, Shelley, it's nothing like that, I… I thought…." My retort dies; should I tell her I had been waiting for Kenny?—she doesn't even know Kenny had slept over, had she? But then, if it was unwise to tell her a story that didn't fit with her facts, then what do I tell her?

As if reading my thoughts, Shelley smirks and shakes her head. "If you're looking for that blonde-headed brat, he's out taking Sparky for a walk." At this I stare at her in shock; so she did know…. But at least my assumption had been right. But… shit. If she knows he's here, then she's… she must've seen his bruises, too….

"Pretty spots of blue, don't you think?" she says quietly, eyeing me carefully. I grumble under my breath; am I thinking aloud or something?—why does it seem like she can always hear me?

"So you've seen them then?" I ask her.

She raises an eyebrow. "What, his eyes?" She laughs when I roll my eyes. "Yes, of course I've seen them. The turd's face was priceless when he saw me. Great stuff. Probably didn't even realize people other than you live in this house." She shakes her head and walks to her room. "You aren't going in."

"I know," I tell her, and so I wait while she changes. Granted it seems to take forever, and I find at least three things to amuse myself with before she's come out. But once she does finish and once she does come out of her room, she immediately bursts into conversation.

"You know, if you weren't going to turn him into the hospital, the least you could've done was to patch up his bruises." At this she glares at me pretty intensely, though I'm not sure why. Since when was she to care about others?—she beat the living hell outta of me back when we were kids, and not once did she care about fixing up the swellings she'd caused. "He's a bit better now. Doesn't look as swollen and stuff."

"Thanks," I reply, but mainly because it's the only thing I can really think of saying. "You aren't gonna tell mom anything, are you?"

"That's_your_ job," she says, stressing the middle word. "If she comes to me, I'm saying you have him over for whatever reason. But you've got more important things to worry about, you know." For a moment I gulp in hesitation; my mind quickly thinks of Kyle and Wendy, and for a brief moment I wonder if that's what she's talking about. But I quickly dismiss that, knowing Kenny wouldn't let me down by telling the whole world what he knew. "You don't have very long to come up with a reason why Kenny's got those bruises."

I nod, turning away. That wouldn't be easy; most of the stories I could think of would end up with my mom running to Mrs. McKormick…. But then, did Mrs. McKormick even _know_? I don't think he had mentioned her last night…. So then, if Kenny didn't go home, would that cause her panic?—or would Mr. McKormick have told her his running out? Maybe Mrs. McKormick, like Kenny's siblings, didn't even know about the beatings….

"I need a reason for him to stay, too," I mutter quietly.

There's a small moment of silence. "The turd's staying?"

"Yeah… can't exactly go back, can he?" Shelley merely raises an eyebrow, and it's at that instant that she probably doesn't even know _why_ Kenny has all those bruises. She probably wasn't supposed to know why he had been injured the way he was…. "Sorry, I'm not exactly being too secretive about this, am I?—shit, I'm probably going to end up selling Kenny out…."

"Stan," begins Shelley, and the tone of her voice frightens me. It's both… I dunno, chilling and finite…. "If the truth does come out… if people find out what happened to Kenny… or rather, if people find out what you _say_ has happened to Kenny… do you really think people are going to believe you?"

"Of course, Ken—" I find myself stopping before I finish the sentence. "What'd you mean?"

"Remember as a kid when I used to find pleasure in beating you up?—well, I still do, but you get my point. But anyway… whenever mom and dad saw you with those bruises, and whenever you told them it was me… they didn't believe you."

"Yeah, but this is different," I argue.

"You think so?"

"Yeah…." Was it? "I'm seventeen, not eight, and my word's more believable. Kenny's got the physical proof—"

"So did you."

"—and besides, we're talking about an alcoholic drunkard, here!"

"So his father had done it, then?" she asks with a smirk, and I deadpan. Shit, I just told her. But Shelley merely shrugs, slowly making her way downstairs.

I follow her. "But anyway, I wouldn't go telling the world about this yet. Well, from now on, because I'll be keeping my mouth shut more." Shelley smiles before pulling on a jacket. "Wait, you're going somewhere?"

"Yep," she replies, giving me one last hard look. "You'll be fine. As your sister, I think I know you enough to say that you'll pull through."

And with that she closes the door behind her. I stand in the kitchen for several moments, unmoving and full of thought. I'd never really noticed how much kinder Shelley had become since those younger days—though granted that I don't really talk to her anymore. It had been a gradual change, of course, but I hadn't noticed it. We had been in bad terms then, always fighting, yet even something as violent as that relationship had come to pass….

Would it be the same with Kyle and Wendy, then? Though I hoped it wouldn't take as incredibly long as my relationship with Shelley had taken, would time eventually heal what I had done? Wendy would be extremely angry with me, and I'm sure no amount of apologizing would change that. But Kyle… would we eventually get over this… this _thing_ that's happened between us? Would I have to go nine years without a Super Best Friend before achieving that…?

It occurs to me then that I had never really tried calling either of them after what had happened, despite having complained about not getting any calls. I called Kyle after my fight with him, by accident, in an attempt to call Wendy, before I had tried…. But other than that I had never really tried reconciling with them. And I know Wendy's gonna get me in the gut for it, especially since last time I had to repair our relationship she had criticized me for not taking initiative sooner than I had. But… was it a good idea to reconcile with them over the phone?—would they prefer to do this in person?—was it too late to even reconcile our problems?

The opening of the door wakes me from my internal thought, and I met with Kenny's smiling face beaming at me. He tosses a package of melting ice into the trash, which I presume he had used to ease the swelling on his face. It looks somewhat better, I think, and though I really wish he'd go to the hospital to get it checked out, he seems to be better now than he did last night.

"How's it look?" asks Kenny with a frown, to which I merely shrug.

"Not as bad… still a little obvious, but if we stay outta sight it should go away a little more." He nods, looking behind his back. Sparky jumps at Kenny's feet, licking my protruding feet as he wags his tail with great effort. Damn dog; it hasn't been _that_ long since we'd seen each other. I bet you anything he slept with me last night, too.

"Outta sight?" he reiterates. "Like, out there?"

I give a shrug. "Whatever you want, Ken. I mean, you just walked Sparky for me—thank you, by the way—so I mean, if you just wanna lie in for a while—no, not like _that_, Kenny—you're more than welcome to." I heave a sigh and continue talking, ignoring Kenny's raised eyebrows. "I wouldn't mind a walk around, though. I gotta think about what I'm gonna do with Kyle and Wendy."

"Wendy?" he asks curiously, to which I begin cursing myself internally. I seem to be doing that a lot lately, selling myself out without meaning to. "Dude, _again_?"

"Shut up," I snap, staring hard at the floor. "It was just a fight, that's all. But you know her…." I don't look up; I'm almost positive he's not buying the story I'm giving him. It was definitely more than just 'a fight,' and I'm sure he really _doesn't_ know her in that situation. I'm surprised when he agrees with my statement, nodding knowingly as he pats my shoulder.

"Girls are a pain," Kenny says before smirking. "But it's all worth it in the end, I think. No pain, no gain." Part of me wants to tell him the saying doesn't quite refer to getting some, but I refrain myself as he turns back to the door. Probably not a good time to kill his happiness. "Anyway, wanna head out then? I'll accompany you."

"Sure." I tie Sparky to the nearest chair and snatch my phone before exiting the house. We walk slowly at first, the air silent around us. I'm sure Kenny's thinking of loads of things, especially how to take control over his life now that he's away from his father… though I think that might be a bad thing in his mind, and so I don't disturb him. There're some things running through my mind too, but anytime I grasp a coherent thought my mind jumps to other things.

Ultimately I find myself taking out my phone and dialing Wendy's number. It occurs to me that it hasn't really been that long at all since my feuds with her and Kyle—not even a day. Yet in my mind it feels like it had been at least half a week ago, and I have to keep reminding myself she's only had a day to think things over.

"Stan?"

Wendy's voice sounds very different, for some reason. Maybe it's because it's through a phone—though I've heard her speak on a phone before—or maybe because I haven't heard her voice in a whole day, but it definitely sounds different and I can't tell why.

"Hey Babe… um…." I sigh, looking at Kenny. He gives me an encouraging smile. "You think I could… come over for a bit? To apologize, maybe…?" She breathes inwardly, and from my end I can hear her let out a sigh. That's not a good sign, not at all….

"Stan, I'm not in town."

"…oh."

"Sorry, I'm off visiting my grandma, remember…? I told you about it once, I think." It takes several seconds to come to me, how she had said that she was afraid of seeing her, how she was scared of saying goodbye. I vaguely remember telling her to pretend it wasn't an actual goodbye, to promise her grandmother there would be other times…. But somehow that feels like so long ago, an intangible past of good times I can no longer grasp….

"I forgot, sorry." I turn to Kenny and shake my head, and he pouts slightly at me. "Well… I'm sorry for… what I did, Wends… I want to apologize to you but I'd rather do it in person."

"I get it," she replies, and I sigh in relief. Her voice sounds a lot more cheerful, now. "Well, I'll see you when I get back, then. I'll talk to you later?"

"When'd you get back?" I ask before she goes.

"Monday," she replies, and with that she hangs up. I quickly shut the phone and turn to Kenny, who looks expectantly at me. I nod slightly at him, which puts a smile on his face.

"We're okay, for now," I tell him, and he nods. "Told her I'd make things better when she gets back. Right now, though, she'll probably need a clear mind…." Kenny nods again. He doesn't ask me what she'll need a clear mind for, though. That's one thing I like about Kenny; he never asks for more than he needs to know. And maybe that's just how he was raised, but… I'm at least thankful for it.

"How about Kyle, then?" Kenny asks, to which I deadpan. "You should probably make amends with him, right?"

"I… I suppose so." For some reason the prospect of amending with Kyle seems much more frightening, as if I were more afraid of its results than I had been of possibly losing Wendy. And maybe it was just because this was _Kyle_ we were talking about, but….

"Gonna have to do it eventually," says Kenny, nudging his head over his left shoulder. I turn to the direction, and somehow find Kyle's house standing next to us. When we had gotten ourselves here I'm not sure… maybe Kenny had intentionally led me in this direction. But there seemed to be no turning back now….

Kenny gives me a light push in the direction of Kyle's house, and before I can stop him I'm at the front door. I gulp once before pushing open the door, hearing the familiar sounds of the Broflovski household. Music upstairs, bubbling from the kitchen, the television rambling on about something I don't really understand…. It feels very homely, yet for the first time in what might as well be forever, I feel like I'm intruding here, as if I'm not welcome here….

"Oh, Stan!" Mrs. Broflovski comes hobbling from the kitchen, a ladle in hand. "Kyle's upstairs if you want him—oh, Kenny, good to see you, too!"

"Good afternoon Mrs. Broflovski," he says weakly, bowing his head a little. "I'll just wait in the living room for Stan, if you don't mind."

…it's already afternoon?

"Oh, not at all," she replies, and I take my cue to leave. I find myself stumbling on the steps when I hear Mrs. Broflovski faintly asking about Kenny's bruises, and it is only then when I feel bad for having brought Kenny with me. After all, wasn't the original plan to avoid people seeing his face?

…it occurs to me Kyle's probably going to flip when he hears about Kenny. After all, he had kinda been predicting it for a while….

_"They never bring any of us into their fights."_

I stop in front of Kyle's door. Had Kenny lied to us back then? Had he said that while his father was still beating him…? Or… or….

"Hey Stan." I awaken from my train of thought and find Kyle staring at me through the doorway. He looks very… untidy. Maybe he's just woken up. Or maybe…. "Sup?"

"Er… can I come in?" He nods and steps aside, and I almost think I hear him say 'as if that's stopped you before' as I walk past him. I smile to that, and I merely sit at the side of his bed as he closes the door behind me. His bed is still unmade, and I wrap part of the blanket around my torso, just for the sake of comfort. "Er… about why I'm here… I wanted to apologize."

"Apologize?" he repeats, taking a seat at the chair in front of the computer. He swivels so that he's facing me. "For what?"

"For… well, yesterday." I bite my lip, nodding my head to the floor. "You aren't mad at me, are you?"

"I should be asking you that." I frown and look up to him. Why should he be apologizing…?

I tell him just that. "I was the one who walked out on you," I protest. It's kind of funny; we're arguing who should be at fault. And we're arguing for our own cases.

"I probably came across too strongly," Kyle says quietly, and I subconsciously nod. "But er, no… I'm not mad at you."

"That's good." A silence befalls us as I fall onto his bed. This was going a lot easier than I had imagined it…. "Er, I'm not mad at you either… yeah."

"I'm sorry about that whole thing, by the way," says Kyle, though I have no idea what he's talking about. He's not looking at me anymore, once again, but at least he keeps talking. "I know you're probably uncomfortable about my whole… well, you know…. And I know you have a girlfriend, too, so I was kinda stupid in…. But I just wanted to let you know that I'm willing to just… well, put it aside and stuff… like, to just forget about this and move on, to not let it get in the way of our friendship…. You know?"

"Kyle…." That's not really what I want. It isn't fair for Kyle, for him to just… forget his feelings. Yet for some reason the idea seems appealing, as if it'd make it easier for the both of us to just move on and deal with other things… like, for instance, figuring out how to help Kenny. "If that's what you really want…."

"Yeah." Silence once more. I'm not really sure what to say to Kyle at this point; part of me just wants to remain silent so I don't ruin things again, and the other part wishes there were some other way of just… making it beneficial for the both of us. Yet… I'm not sure if that's even possible, at this point.

This is going by too quickly, too easily, and I'm almost positive something wrong has to happen somewhere, as if there's a catch to this that I haven't yet heard of. But nothing comes, just more silence. We exchange silent stares for moments, just taking in our presences, and it takes a great deal of effort to speak up and ruin it.

"So we're cool, then?" I ask to no one in particular, and Kyle utters a yes. "In that case… wanna head back to mine? Kenny's over, so it should be fun."

"I guess." I sling my arm around his shoulders as we exit his room and head down the stairs. Ike meets us on the stairs on his way up, and I can almost catch some sort of glint in his eye as he passes….

"About fucking time," Kenny says with a smirk, looking from me to Kyle. "Take it the both of you have kissed it all better?"

"If you wanna put it that way," I reply with a smile, turning to Kyle. Kyle, however, is not smiling, and merely stares at Kenny's face.

Shit….

"What the hell happened—?"

"Kie-yole, there's _no_ yelling in this house, you hear me?"

"—to you?" Kyle finishes, gaping at Kenny. Kyle turns to me disbelievingly, to which I merely shrug. "You _knew_ about this?"

"Kinda crashed at my house last night," I reply jokingly; "I figure I'd know, yes." Kyle merely glares at me, apparently not amused with my lighthearted tone. He seethes before turning to Kenny again, clearly expecting answers from him.

"…I'll tell you on the way back," Kenny says while grumbling, and that sates him. He merely nods and points us to the door, and with that we begin an animated march back to my house.

I let out a sigh. Everything seems fine once more.

I can breathe again.

* * *

_Posted: December 4th, 2007._

_After reading many South Park stories and a ton more original stories, I've come to the realization that my writing is pitiful compared to the things that are out there. But I'm still glad some of you like this. I've taken into consideration what you've said in reviews, and I'm going to try and improve the future chapters (and maybe old ones) to better this story and your reading._

_Just a reminder: Please review. It gives motivation to authors who are just about ready to give in to writer's block. _


	16. Dismiss

_Dismiss_

Today is Wednesday. Wendy comes back on Monday.

"It's not that bad," Kenny tries telling me, arm slung around my shoulders. He, Kyle and I are in my room, sitting on the bed as we all try to pass the time. It was also too early for any of us to be sleeping yet, and there really wasn't much else we could be occupied with.

"You still need to figure out what you're gonna tell your mom," says Kyle quietly, to which I merely grumble at. As of now she only knew of a 'sleepover' that would be occurring in my room. She hadn't even seen Kenny yet, and I had wondered if Mrs. McKormick had ever talked to her about her son's absence….

Kyle gets up from the bed and seats himself in front of the computer. I think he's going to look something up on Google; at least, that's what it looks like from over here. But at least it gives him something to do; Kenny and I are still quite bored, and there really isn't anything to do in my room, really. And I suppose if Kenny didn't have the remnants of a bruise pasted on his face we'd be able to go outside a little more, but….

"Fucking Monday," I mutter, shaking my head. "God, that's going to feel like forever, you know."

"Just relax, Stan," Kenny tells me again, patting me once more. "That's not that far off. Thursday… Friday… Saturday… Sunday…. Four whole days and a bit of Monday. You'll live." I scowl at him before collapsing onto my bed. Realistically, Kenny's right. It's not even a whole week. Yet already I know how long each day's going to feel, let alone four days.

I still have to apologize to her, and that's probably what's going to make this wait so painful. Though truthfully I'll have four days to think over how I'll apologize to her, that's still four days of dreading a possible rejection. What if Wendy doesn't accept my apology? Or even, what if she tells someone I tried raping her? Could she—_would_she—use that as blackmail? Would this mark the end of our final relationship?

I suppose my thoughts are easy to read, because moments later Kenny flops next to me, smirking in my direction. "Dunno what's eating you, dude," he says quietly, probably so Kyle can't hear; "but if it's about Wendy, you really just gotta let it go for a while. Think about it later, Stan. Really, if you don't stop thinking about it, this'll just be all the more painful for you."

"You think so?" I whisper back, and he nods. "I… I dunno, Ken, sometimes I really just can't help it…. I don't wanna screw this up."

"Not that you haven't done it before," Kenny says with a devious smile, and I find myself glaring hard in his direction. "Maybe… well, it's probably not my place to say…."

"Say it."

He clears his throat. "Maybe… maybe it's time to just let Wendy go." I find myself immediately sitting back up, Kenny following suit. I think my jaw is dropped but I can't tell; had I heard Kenny correctly? But why would… why would he suggest such a preposterous thing?

"No," I reply coldly, and he merely shrugs. "I love her, Ken. I'm not gonna give up on her that easily." Kenny raises his eyebrows and shrugs again, but his mouth doesn't utter anything thereafter. There's only a silence between us, and the only sounds in the tense air is Kyle's typing somewhere to our left….

"I'm sorry," he says at last, patting me on the back once more before standing up. "Like I said, wasn't my place to say."

I sigh between my teeth and let it go. "S'all right, Ken." Yet long after Kenny leaves me to look at Kyle, Kenny's words echo in my mind. At first it had sounded so farfetched, yet… yet…. If things didn't work out, would I have to be the one to fix the relationship again? I mean… it'd only be the second time I'd have to repair our relationship, but… we'd broken up countless amounts of times….

…was it… would it be worth it?

My eyes float over to Kenny and Kyle, who are both busy watching videos online. I shake my head; what the hell was I thinking? Of _course_ it'd be worth it…. I didn't even need to question that.

"Fuck," Kenny curses from the computer, "he actually did it…." Curious, I get off my bed and make my way over there, placing an arm on Kyle's other shoulder as I peer at the video.

Kyle and Kenny dancing, with their shirts twisted into bras.

"I told Ike not to fucking do it," Kyle says, seething. "Fuck, when I get home…." The scene actually gives me a laugh. It's definitely a lot funnier than how I remember it to be, now that I'm not responsible for the actions they're doing. Though—oh, look, there I am, trying to reason with the both of them….

Shit. Ike had videotaped the kiss, too.

It's very awkward to watch. I take the arm off Kyle's shoulder. The back of his ears are tinted slightly pink, and I'm sure the rest of his face is red, too. It kinda… bothers me to watch this. I mean, I'm not exactly responding or anything; I'm kinda just standing there while Kyle sloppily attacks my mouth. But… fuck, if Wendy saw this….

What kind of sick kid would keep recording this? I mean, Ike's adopted and Canadian, but still….

I back away from the computer and turn to the clock, and I catch Kenny's bemused expression in doing so. He's got it all figured out in his head, I bet, how and why Kyle and I had gotten into that small fallout to begin with. And he's never going to forget it either, I'd bet, him and his perverted mind.

…fuck, we're _still_ kissing? How long did that last?

The video does end, and none of us move after its end. We just remain motionless, thinking of what exactly to make out of it. And that's really how all awkward moments are; you live through it with worry plaguing your mind, so much that by the time it's done you don't know how to return to the normal, everyday life.

Kyle's the first to speak. "…I gotta go." And he rushes out of my room. I hear the bathroom door slam shut in the distance, and after that comes another silence. Kenny and I look at each other for a moment, lost for words, and even when he leaves the computer we don't talk. His expression is enough to tell me what he thinks; he's not wearing a disgusted face, at least, but it's a bit obvious that he had found that video quite amusing….

I sigh and shake my head, diving face-first into the pillows on my bed.

Fuck, it's only Wednesday.

-

Kyle and I don't often fight. After all, we're Super Best Friends. Most of the time we agree and get along, and even if we don't agree, it usually doesn't cause any problems. If we do fight it doesn't last that long and somehow we make things up. Never any long-term grudges, really.

Like that time during Christmas, when he insisted there was this… thing… by the name of Mr. Hankey. I think at the time I had just dismissed him as wanting attention, since he didn't believe in Christmas and his mom didn't want us near him to spread our Christmas ways with him… though I don't think we would've really done that, either. But, if I remembered correctly, we had gotten into a fight, even putting Kyle in some mental ward, and still the week had ended with smiles on our faces.

Or like that time when Guitar Hero became the new craze, when I had left him to play with some other amazing Guitar Hero player. Kyle had gotten angry with me, telling me how I had become blind to the actual fun in the game, and though originally I had disagreed with him, eventually I had realized he was right. And though I had been so blind to the truth, somehow in the end we had still ended in good terms.

Basically, Kyle and I weren't the most perfect Super Best Friends out there, but if we did fight it was usually resolved quickly. It'd always end up with some confrontation, and after that we'd be cool again. In a way it was almost predictable, but that's the way I liked it. That's why, in a small unimportant way, my most recent falling out with Kyle bothers me. It wasn't conventional, you could say. Like, Kyle had been hiding the fact that he had feelings for me, but that confrontation never really happened. It was like… an accident, I guess, and we're both just kinda ignoring it. Kyle had just decided to bottle it up instead of going more in depth with his problems, as he usually does, and it just feels… different, I guess.

Maybe the word "bother" isn't the word I'm after. I think it's more like I'm worried about Kyle. I mean, I guess I could live a little if we never talked about it again, but Kyle… he needs to talk things out. He always has; he'll always need to. And I have the strangest feeling that this'll eventually eat him up from the inside.

Now the question was… should I do something about it? Knowing that it might end up bad on Kyle's part, should I take the initiative and correct it now…?

But I don't really have to do anything about it now. It's three in the morning, and Kyle's asleep on the floor. Kenny's off in the bathroom, I think, which just leaves me as the only one awake in the room. It's rather quiet, with the only sounds being Kyle's breathing, and in the darkness I merely watch his form rise and fall.

I've got so much time on my hands. I'm not sleepy, which usually means I'm stuck trying to find myself something to do once more; and at the moment, the only thing I can really do is think of Kyle, of Kenny, of Wendy….

Wendy.

It's only Thursday—very early Thursday, I might add—which means it's still almost forever until she comes back. And though that means I've just got more time to figure things out, it also means it's an even longer time for me to dread of the talk we'll need to have when she gets here….

"Stan?" It's a quiet whisper, and I almost miss it the first time I hear it. But I do hear it faintly, at the least, and turning to the voice results in Kenny tiptoeing to where I am. He gives me a meek smile before seating himself next to me. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Can't," I mumble quietly. "I've got… stuff to think about." And whether I really want to think about it or not, it's still the truth.

Kenny nods, his gaze turning to the floor. "Same here, I guess. I've been thinking about… well, you know… my dad." He continues to stare at the floor, unmoving when I place a comforting arm around his shoulders. I guess that would really be something to think about…. And I wouldn't really know much about it, because the closest I've been to having an abusive dad was when my dad had consumed too much alcohol.

"Do you think it's selfish of me?" Kenny asks, turning to me.

I raise an eyebrow. "What'd you mean?"

"I mean… leaving his house… coming here… leaving everyone else with him…. Is that being selfish?"

"Well…" and as I struggle for the words to tell him he turns to the ground once more. I'm not sure what to tell him; no, I didn't think he was being selfish, yet at the same time… maybe his siblings felt he was…. Whether they were actually aware of what his father did was an entirely different matter, of course, but… I dunno. I could at least see where Kenny was coming from….

"You're doing the right thing, I think," I tell him eventually. "I mean… it's not like you've left them forever. You're just waiting until you have the chance to do something about all of this, right? You'll get them away from him when you can, and because of that… well, I don't think that's being selfish at all." There's a moment of silence, and he just looks at me with something that resembles admiration. His eyes water, though that might just be the poor lighting in the room (if any at all), and he smiles before nodding and turning away yet again.

"Thanks… Stan… I needed that."

Silence again. We're both staring at the sleeping Kyle, now, and for a second I wonder what's going through Kenny's mind. All sorts of emotions I wouldn't understand, I'd imagine… and yet, it's not like he's entirely different than I am. We're both human, capable of the same emotions, faults….

I clear my throat. "Uh, Ken…?"

"Yeah?"

"Could I maybe… ask _you_ for some advice?" He gives me a curious look before nodding quietly, turning back to Kyle.

"I guess I could… you helped me some, anyway… though don't take that as if I'm only doing this to return a favor." I smile quietly and remain silent until he speaks again. "I take it we're discussing Kyle?"

I shake my head. "Wendy, actually…."

"Oh." He bites his lip. "I would've… well, I mean…."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Hm?"

He shakes his head slightly. "Well no, I was just thinking… you were looking at him so intently, I thought you might've been… but never mind, Wendy, huh…?"

"Yeah…." But my mind isn't on Wendy anymore, but on Kyle. Did he think I was having problems with Kyle, then? Or was he just making an assumption with no basis? Hadn't Kyle and I already made amends?—but then again, as I had been thinking earlier, it hadn't been very conventional….

I decide to ask him. "Just the tension," Kenny says with a shrug. "I mean, you aren't enemies or anything, but it's definitely not the same pair of best friends I'm used to being around, if you know what I mean." I merely shrug and affirm what he's said. That much I'll admit, but I never really thought it'd have been that obvious. Or maybe it wasn't really obvious, and that maybe Kenny was just a really observant person….

"…then again, I guess I'd be the same way…." Kenny looks at me curiously yet again, nudging his head to Kyle's direction. And suddenly I understand what he's getting at, and immediately I shake my head. "So… though I guess I know the highlights… what happened?"

I shrug. I was supposed to be getting help with Wendy, not Kyle… though I suppose he's closer at hand, right now. "You won't tell anyone, will you? I'm not sure Kyle wants me spreading this around to the whole world…."

"If you you're implying Cartman, then no, I won't tell him. But I might talk to Kyle about this… no one else, I swear." I pause for a moment. There wasn't anything wrong with that, right…? Kyle probably thought that Kenny knew anyway….

So I tell him. It doesn't take very long, the majority of the time spent merely being me and my inability to string coherent sentences the way I'd like to. I also skip a lot of things, trying to keep things as simple as possible. I tell him about how I had suddenly noticed a change in his behavior—though apparently, or at least so I'm told, I'd already brought that up to him—and I also tell him about the drunken incident… which he's already watched. After that I merely explain what had happened afterward, and also how the awkwardness had supposedly come to a close.

I don't like the look on Kenny's face by the time I'm done. "That's it?"

I nod slowly. "Yeah… and now I feel like I should d something about it, because something, for some reason… doesn't feel right." I take a moment and pause. "Is there… something else I should've said?"

"How would I know?" I shrug, looking away. A silence sets in between us, but only because I'm merely waiting for Kenny to continue talking. "So…" he says eventually, though it takes a while for him to continue again. "So…."

"So?"

"So… you wanted advice, right?"

I nod instinctively. "Yeah… wait, I think—"

"No, you didn't," he answers for me, shaking his head. "I only asked you to explain stuff. You wanted advice with Wendy."

"Oh… right…." He gives a quiet laugh before shaking his head and turning away. "Then… then why'd you even ask if you already knew the answer?"

Kenny shrugs. "Dunno. But anyway, back to what I was getting at …."

"Why'd you wanna know about Kyle?" I ask him instead, though he avoids the subject.

"So you wanna know what I think about Wendy, then?"

"I wanna know what you think about Kyle…." To this Kenny only raises an eyebrow, but despite that he doesn't look entirely too surprised. I guess after having had to explain my position with Kyle I'd have to be interested about his opinion regarding the matter….

"Well," he says after sighing; "if you want my honest opinion…."

"I do."

"Just let it go."

"What?" I stare at him in disbelief, though he merely returns the glare with the same amount of seriousness. Let it go?—as in, let _him_ go?—as in how I should supposedly let Wendy go, too?

I tell Kenny this, and he immediately takes offense. "No, that's not what I meant…. I mean… let the issue go. The two of you are happy now, aren't you?'

I nod. "Yeah, but I—"

"Then be satisfied with what you have, Stan. I mean… sure, it's great if you can make things better and whatnot, but that's Kyle's job. For all you know, what you could do might just ruin things. I can't necessarily say I've learned this from experience, but…. You shouldn't need to ask for more if you're already okay with how things currently are, you know?"

I sigh, turning to Kyle. He's not awake. But I wonder; if he were awake, and if he had heard everything Kenny was saying… would he act any differently than I'd be? Would he listen to Kenny or fight for his own stance?

"Besides," continues Kenny, his hands animated in his miniature speech. "Say you did bring this up with Kyle again, even after you've already officially dropped the subject. You really think it's going to do any good for him, for you? I'd think it'd just make things worse, wouldn't it? The tension and awkwardness would only rise, if you ask me.

"Stan, I know you have good intentions, and I know you've got your interests vested in Kyle's happiness. But… maybe in this situation, it'd be better if you just left things as they were. Besides, this is Kyle's fight… if Kyle's unhappy with things, let him be the one to change it."

Silence lingers for minutes after Kenny stops talking, and though I'm trying to formulate sentences in my head I can't really say anything. And now that I thought about it, this 'issue' might not even exist… for all I know, Kyle might really be happy with things as they are, and it's only because of me freaking out and looking after Kyle that I think he could be better….

I can't say much by the time I do open my mouth. "I…. Thanks, Ken. I… I needed that, I think."

He only flashes me a smile before flopping onto the bed. "Anytime, Stan…. Now get some sleep. It'll help, I promise."

"I'll try." I flash him one last smile before attempting to drown myself in careless blackness once more.

Sleep, of course, doesn't come.

-

It had taken a few days for Kenny's bruises to truly disappear, and the day that had finally happened had also happened to be the day he insisted on disappearing off, alone. And though for a moment I had considered not letting him ago alone and consequently following him, I ended up just letting him be… which meant now it was—

"Just me and you Kyle," I tell the boy quietly, all before casting a small pebble into Stark's Pond. It only makes a few jumps, but it's a lot farther than I could ever get it to go as a child. "Though I wonder what Kenny's doing right now…."

"Let him be," Kyle says simply before tossing his rock. It makes an extra jump than mine does, which instinctively causes a few pangs of jealousy to arise within me. "Anyway, I haven't been able to have you alone lately, so it's a nice change… I guess." To this I raise an eyebrow, which immediately causes him to turn away in evident embarrassment. "No, not like that…."

"It's cool," I assure him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezing it tightly. "I get what you mean, anyway. I'm not Kenny, you know. Not everything has to be sexual." To this he smiles, and that small moment's left at that. We both use the silence to find another rock to skip, Kyle taking a lot longer to find his rock; and it's only when we both have a rock do we talk again. "Er… Kyle…?"

"Yeah?" His rock literally skims the surface, almost flies; and it manages an extra two jumps before arriving at its demise to the bottom of the lake. Damn Kyle… and damn the rock.

"Things are… cool… between us… right?" I'm not even sure why I'm asking. Kenny's words are branded into me at this point, yet despite that a part of me _really_ wants to make sure…. It's that feeling that just comes naturally, how sometimes being warned only makes you want to do it even more, like a child told not to touch the oven….

"You said it yourself, didn't you?" He bends over to find another rock. "Why, something wrong?"

"Well no, I just…." Somehow at that moment my retort dies. That, or my voice, but it didn't make a difference—I couldn't continue, somehow, and I dunno… it was like I had lost the curiosity, the words to keep going, to finish what I had to say….

"Stan?"

"I… nothing, Kyle. It's nothing, I think." The minute Kyle begins to straighten himself upright I duck to find another rock. Kenny was right… maybe I should've left it alone….

Kyle probably thinks I'm a mess, unable to organize my own thoughts properly.

"You okay, Stan?" Kyle asks me, though I can't tell if he's looking at me when he asks. I'd presume, though, that he's probably wearing some sort of bemused expression about now…. "You seem… I dunno, all over the place."

"I'm not sure myself…." I need an excuse, a reason to get me out of the predicament I had somehow managed to get myself into so suddenly and so carelessly. I couldn't just _tell_ him that all this was because of him could I? That'd just make him feel bad. And yet… it was still the truth…. "I… I'm having problems with…."

"Wendy?" Kyle offers.

_No, you_. "Yeah, Wendy." Nice save.

I skip the rock I've most recently picked up. "We're… not in good terms again. That's why I'm anxious for her to get back…. I still have to apologize to her."

"For what?"

"Stuff I did." Kyle takes the hint and doesn't ask more. "My mind's kinda been all over the place lately, and I've been thinking… a lot…."

"Thinking?" Kyle asks, and I nod.

"Just about my relationships and stuff. With Wendy, with Kenny, with you… all those relationships have suddenly flipped in an entirely different light, it's kinda hard to process everything at once, you know?"

Kyle pauses for a moment. "Yeah… I sorta get what you're saying…. Well, if you need me to do anything, you know I'm always there, right?"

I bite my lip and nod. "Yeah… I guess so." He smiles before he stares at the rock in his hand. "One more?"

"Yeah." Maybe Kenny really was right. Maybe I really should just stick to things as they are now… though, in all honesty, it's not even clear in my mind anymore as to what I had been chasing to begin with. Something unimportant, it seems. I'm fine with how things are with Kyle now. I'll let Kyle change it if it doesn't suit him.

Hopefully, though…. I hope Kenny isn't right about Wendy.

Kyle waits for me to find a rock, and we both throw them to the water at the same time.

His goes farther.

* * *

_Posted: December 28__th__, 2007._

_Just a reminder: Please review. It significantly lessens the number of excuses authors can use for not updating sooner… which consequently forces quicker updates._


	17. Foundation

_Foundation _

I'd known it had just been a dream. Yet for some reason, I couldn't find the courage to shake myself out of it.

I had known the minute I'd begun falling into that abyss of darkness. Arms spread wide, hair flying in all directions, the terrible feeling of endless vertical wind… all unpleasant. And though many voices I heard, none seem to reply to me when I called for help. They merely kept talking, most in form of gossip or rumor, and it filled my ears tantalizingly.

But… this time… I did stop falling.

I'd first felt the wet taste of dew in my mouth, and a tingling feeling had tickled my cheeks. I couldn't immediately open my eyes—the light was too bright, and even in the dream it was hard for my eyes to adjust. But after a while I had realized where I'd been: in a garden.

A garden within a park, so it seemed. In the distance I could see swings and children, their voices reaching the sky as their toes touched clouds. Behind them their siblings or mothers laughed with their fantasies, holding the weapon that could quickly crush their imaginations. But I turned my back to such infantilism and instead to the benches before me.

I'd sat down there and waited. I wasn't sure what I was waiting for at the time, but when a familiar face took a seat next to me, I'd then realized it.

"Hey Stan," Wendy's calming voice had greeted, and I shyly turned my head to hers.

"Hi… Wendy."

"Enjoying your break so far?"

Small talk.

"Sure… you?"

She gulped. "She… passed away…." In the dream I hadn't known who she was talking about, but I hadn't bothered to ask. I'd only put my arm around her, smiling when I felt her lean into my embrace.

"I just wanted to say… I'm sorry for what I did… before you left." At the time, it seemed like the perfect thing to say. But it hadn't been; she'd just admitted someone's death, and all she wanted was to find comfort. And of course, I had to come along and give her another burden, another thing to worry herself with.

"You…." She pushed herself off me. "You fucking bastard, I _hate_ you!" She gritted her teeth, pulled her fist back, and then she had let go.

I'd woken up then.

At first the lack of light was surprising. It was quiet again, yet not so at the same time. Wendy's words rang in my head, painfully so, and any silence nighttime could've brought was clearly overpowered. But after a while I had gotten used to where I was again, but the aftermath of the dream only prevented me from sleeping once more.

And of course, I had passed my insomnia as I always did—amusing myself in one way or another, looking at the posters on my wall, and using my computer to browse the internet, just to say a few of the things I'd done. And sometime in that amount of time I'd come to the conclusion that I needed to get myself a good computer game for times like this, but I only thought on the matter very lightly.

I never did fall asleep again, though, and so when my door had suddenly slammed open sometime later, the intruder had been quite surprised to see me already awake.

"Wha?—how'd you get in?" I had stared at the girl in front of me, gawking; and in response she had only given a meek smile.

"Your sister," Bebe replied happily, twirling a finger in her blonde, curly hair. "Hm…Shelley, was it? I think she didn't give a shit if I went here or not, so I just let myself up." I nodded slowly, trying to comprehend her logic, but after a few moments I had decided to let it be. "Well, anyway, you're coming with me."

"I am?"

She nodded. "You are."

And so, after having changed quickly—Bebe looking away, of course—and after eating a very small breakfast, I found myself climbing into the passenger's seat of Bebe's car.

That happens to be where I am now, sitting in the absence of conversation, allowing only the music of Bebe's stereo to flow through my ears. It'd only a few more moments until we'd reach her house; she'd promised to explain everything once we'd gotten to her house, which meant that it wouldn't be long now until I'd know why I'd been pulled out of my house so early in the morning….

"We're here!" she exclaims cheerfully when we pull into her driveway. She laughs when she looks at me, and I have no idea why; she nods her head once before exiting her car, slamming the door shut after her. "Well?"

"Oh, right." I slowly exit the car and follow her inside. "So Bebe, what exactly am I doing here?"

"Right now?—nothing."

"Nothing?" I ask, somewhat flabbergasted. "I could've slept in, Bebe!"

Bebe raises an eyebrow. "You were already awake, anyway." Bebe laughs again at my lack of a retort. "Anyway, you're doing nothing now, unless you find something to do. But in a little bit we're leaving for the airport to get Wendy, and you're coming with."

"Me?"

She merely glares at me. "Yes you, Stan, who else would I be talking to?" I turn pathetically to the stuffed bear on her drawer before facing her again. "Kyle's gonna drop by in a little bit, so you won't be too bored for long."

"Oh…." Not to my surprise, Bebe isn't aware that anything's happened between us. But then again, we'd resolved something along the lines of going back to normalcy, so… hopefully things _would_ be normal between us.

…not that I'm worried it wouldn't be, but….

"Wait, why are we picking up Wendy? Can't her parents just drive her home?"

"Her parents are still there," Bebe replies quickly, tossing me the television remote; "so we'll have to pick her up. Any more questions, Mr. Marsh?"

I laugh at her formality before opening my mouth. "Why'd I have to go, again?"

"Because you're her boyfriend," she says simply, and with that she heads upstairs and presumably into her room. For a minute I merely sat in silence, staring at the dark television screen. Was I still Wendy's boyfriend? Had she broken up with me?—if she hadn't, _would_ she?

I'd had so much time to think on the matter, yet for some reason I hadn't. Too worried about other issues at hand, like trying to get Kyle on my side again. And all those times I did think about Wendy, half the time I forced myself not to think of the situation in its entirety, scared of the consequences that would result from my actions….

It's only because the doorbell rings that that train of thought stops. At first I ignore it, going under the impression that Bebe would answer it; but when I don't hear anyone going down the stairs, I get up to do it myself.

Within seconds I find Kyle standing in front of my face.

"Oh… hi, Stan." He looks surprised to see me for some reason, though I'm not sure why. Bebe probably told him I'd be here, at the least, so he shouldn't be surprised… unless he didn't know I'd be here before he would?

"Hey Kyle," I say cheerfully, patting his back as I usher him inside. "Bebe's upstairs, if you need her."

He shrugs. "I dunno. I was supposed to go with her to the airport."

"Really? Me too!" He smiles weakly at my enthusiasm, shedding himself from his shoes at the door. "Anyway, she said we'd be leaving not too long from now. Wanna watch some TV in the meanwhile?"

"Sure." And so we proceed back to the living room, and as he takes a seat I flop next to him, leaning back into the couch. He shifts himself a little, away from me, and I chuckle at his discomfort. It earns me a quick glare, though I merely ignore it.

"You choose," I tell Kyle, handing him the remote.

"I dunno, you choose."

"I don't care, really. Just go, dude, pick one."

"Stan, I'll watch anything, seriously…." Sighing, I take the remote back from him and find the sports channel. It's not exactly the most interesting channel out there, admittedly, but it's the most generic channel that any guy should be okay with watching. I turn to Kyle, who doesn't seem to object, so I leave it there.

Silence befalls the two of us, though I suppose it's expected since we're both watching the newscast. Rockies won, of course… Cowboys lost….

"Have you made amends with Wendy, yet?" Kyle almost whispers, and I just barely hear him.

"Not yet," I reply, heaving a sigh. "I think I was gonna do that today, since she's been out…."

"Oh."

More silence.

"You'll be able to sort it out though, right?" Again I heave a sigh; would we? Indeed, I'd _like_ to be able to sort stuff out, but something tells me it won't be easy. After all, Wendy hadn't exactly been too happy with me….

"I hope so," is all I can say. Another silence comes between us, and it lasts a little longer than usual. "But…." I turn to Kyle and smile at him. "If things don't work out… you'll be there for me, right?"

Kyle sputters, and I almost think he's choked on something.

"What?" he asks, surprised… though I'm not sure why. So, a little more loudly and a little more slowly, I repeat what I said. "You want me to…?"

His voice trails off. I don't hear the rest.

"Well, you know…." I shrug, clearing my throat and looking back to the television screen—something about the New York Giants having one of its players injured for the rest of the season…. "I mean like, I'll have someone to be with… someone to rely on, that kinda of thing."

"Oh…." His breathing relaxes, somewhat, and he nods quietly in my direction. "Of course… you don't even have to ask, Stan."

"Just making sure, you know." I punch him in the side lightly. "Never can be too sure, these days…."

"Even with your Super Best Friend?"

"Yeah… even so." He nods to this but doesn't turn away. For a moment we're just staring at each other, my eyes into his, his into mine, and for a fleeting instance I feel scared. I don't even know why, but it's like there's something in his expression I don't recognize, something foreign, and it makes me wary of what Kyle might be hiding. And then I feel guilty all over again, but I still can't tear my gaze away from his, even despite my desire to turn away….

"Stan…." It's intense, and I don't know why, and suddenly my mind clouds with confusion, and….

"Oh Kyle, you're here!" Kyle almost jumps a mile away from me before standing up, acknowledging Bebe's newly discovered presence. "Okay, so we're all here. Wendy's flight gets in Denver in about an hour, so we should probably be headed off."

"Okay," Kyle and I answer in unison. Kyle makes for the door as I get up from the couch. I feel slightly dizzy for a few seconds, but as it quickly fades I resume making my way to the door.

"Stan, what's the quickest way to get to Denver, you know?"

I merely shrug. "Just take the interstate?"

Bebe merely growls. "Gee thanks, Stan."

"No problem." I smirk at her frustration and begin to turn away.

"Hey Stan? You know… your face is all red… something happen?"

"What?" At first I just assume she's doing this as a small act of revenge, but when she doesn't relent I begin to believe her. "Seriously?"

"Sure. Even ask Kyle. Hey Kyle!" Kyle turns obediently on the spot, left foot still halfway into his shoe. "Does Stan look a little red to you?"

"Uh…." He turns to me, but he doesn't make direct eye contact with me. "Yeah, a little."

"Shit," I mutter, and it's left at that. Bebe converses some more, but I don't hear half of it. Instead, I can't tear my mind away from that pair of green eyes, the intensity that had burned at me only moments before….

…what the hell had that been…?

-

Despite that incident at Bebe's house—the incident I could hardly explain for myself—things were still fine. Kyle and I had engaged in conversation the entire trip to Denver, and occasionally Bebe had come in. Of course, most of it had been some form of small talk, but it had been enough to keep the awkwardness out of the air. Plus, Bebe hadn't noticed anything suspicious, so that alone had been enough.

We had decided to wait for Wendy in the baggage claim area, since she would end up there eventually. We weren't too early; her flight was expected to arrive in less than ten minutes. Yet even so, ten minutes seemed forever, and I'm sure I had tested Kyle's patience many times in attempting to amuse myself and keep occupied.

"There she is!" Bebe had exclaimed at last, pointing a slender finger at the crowd before us. Immediately she had begun ushering us forward, and I had to quickly cling onto Kyle's shoulder to make sure I didn't get separated from them. Bebe sifted quickly through the bustling crowd, and it had taken much effort to keep up with her.

"I still don't see her," I had mumbled, to which Kyle merely shrugged. Even as we were moving, I couldn't spot Wendy's recognizable face. People were moving too hurriedly to claim their baggage; most merely sped past without even a glance at me.

"There!" Bebe insisted, and it was only then when I did see her. She had been walking toward us slowly, head to her feet, and her hands tightly clutching a small bag. Her appearance looked different than when I had last seen her; she had put less of an effort in making herself look better. Though still, though she might not admit it, she still looked decently pretty.

"Wendy!" Bebe called out, and Wendy instantly heard her friend's loud voice. She walked toward us with a quicker pace, a smile now more evident in her face as she opened her arms to embrace her friend.

"Bebe, hey!" Their hug lasted for several moments, and I could tell that I wasn't the only one shifting awkwardly in spot. "And Kyle, you're here, too!"

"Yeah," he replied quietly, and as she swept him into a hug he looked at me from over his shoulder. Somehow, from the look on his face, I could almost tell that he knew what I was feeling, what I wanted—as if he were reading me just by looking….

"Stan's here too, you know," Bebe had said, and immediately she had backed away from Kyle.

"Stan?" she said aloud, and as if to make sure Bebe had spoken the truth, she swiveled on the spot to find me. I gulped to embrace the worst; it was the first time I'd seen her since the event, and I was still unsure of how she'd react. But amidst my expectations, the only thing I had received was a simple moment of eye contact. It hadn't even been as intense as the one with Kyle; we merely looked into each other's eyes, and somehow we had come to an understanding.

At least, so it seemed.

We hugged, much to Bebe's suspicion, and thereafter we claimed her stuff and left. Per Bebe's request, we'd eaten lunch at the local mall, in which we spent a good hour eating. Then, again on Bebe's request, we were to spend the following hours shopping around the mall. Of course, I hadn't brought much money, and neither had Kyle—but Wendy had just come back from her trip, so she still had excess money. And Bebe, of course, had come prepared.

Wendy had run out of money an hour later, and though she had nothing more to spend she still followed Bebe into the stores. Kyle and I had generally stayed outside, talking about simple things, and perhaps it had just been coincidence that we never looked once at each other. Admittedly the incident from earlier was still on my mind, and though I couldn't quite explain it I didn't want to be the one to bring it up.

Two and a half hours later, Kyle and I hear the first good news in a while. "One more store!" Bebe announces, to which Kyle and I both sigh in relief. However, once Wendy begins chatting with Bebe once more, I fall back a little and pull Kyle with me.

He wears this questioning face, and he even tilts his head to the side a little… even though that's more of my habit than his. "Can you do me a favor?" I ask him, voice hushed as I make sure Wendy can't hear us.

Kyle gives no response, but instead nods his head to urge me to continue speaking. "At the next store, can you go with Bebe? I mean, I know you probably don't want to, but…."

"You want to talk to Wendy?" Kyle suggests, and I nod slowly. "Yeah, 'course dude, no problem."

"Thanks, Kyle." I pat his back and smile, but he backs away at the touch. Before I can question him, however, he quickly returns the smile, and I'm left to drop the subject.

"Hope you sort stuff out," he mutters, and with that he quickens his pace and catches up with Wendy and Bebe. I don't follow him; I merely trail behind, staring weakly at the ground and the three pairs of feet in front of me. It was already a long day as it was, and there was still something I had left to do, a particular something that would perhaps wear out whatever energy I had left in me….

"I insist—you just wait out here. Besides, I wanna ask Bebe something…."

"But I—"

"Don't worry about it, Wends. Get some rest; you've been walking awhile anyway." I smile gratefully at Kyle's efforts, and even more so when Wendy agrees. I think Kyle even casts a look in my direction before disappearing off with Wendy into the clothing store ahead.

What a friend, Kyle….

I take one deep breath and exhale before taking a seat next to Wendy. "Hey, Wendy…."

She looks at me quickly before turning away once more. "Hi, Stan…."

"How's your grandmother doing?"

"Fine," replies Wendy, nodding her head. "I mean, she's still the same as ever. But I mean, you can just tell…. I can tell that might've been the last time I'd get to see her…." I sigh and nod sympathetically. Though I can't say I've truly felt what she's feeling before, I do know her situation and where she's coming from. I can almost remember the day when she talked to me about that issue, back when we were still okay, on a date….

"Wends, forgive me if this is a stupid question, but…."

My voice trails off, causing Wendy to cast a curious expression in my direction. "I don't mind, just ask."

I nod. "Well… are we still… you know… together?" I'm surprised I'm even able to say it loud enough for her to hear. Even from my standpoint I had head the timidity and shyness in my question and it makes me seem very doubtful of myself. Still, despite that, there's apparently something that I've done that causes her to just smile and break into laughter, and though it's more relieving than anything to see such a reaction, it also creates a wave of embarrassment on my part.

"Oh Stan!" she exclaims, placing both of her arms around my midriff and resting her head on my shoulder. "Stan, seriously, sometimes you're just so adorably cute it melts me on the inside!"

"Is… is that a good thing?"

Wendy nods, nudging my sides a little. "Of course, Stan. But, uh… out of curiosity…. What made you ask? It's not like we broke up or anything…."

"But…." Did she honestly not remember? How I had nearly… nearly… _touched_ her, without her consent? Even she had said it herself that day, how I had almost….

But then, that time when I had called her, things seemed to be fine…. Maybe I really was just overreacting….

"I'm glad you're worried, at least," she says, smiling as she leans more into me. "But don't worry, things are fine with me. But if there's something bothering you…."

"Not at all," I reply quickly, and I can already feel my face burning up with even more embarrassment. Sure, I had expected something so much worse than this, but somehow things had turned up better than I had anticipated. And while I still felt guilty for what I did that day, and while I still wanted to make sure she was truly okay with what happened—specifically _that_ day—perhaps this would be for the better….

"Are you busy tomorrow?" I ask, turning to her and smiling. "Maybe we could do something in the evening if you wanted to."

"I'd like that," she says with just as wide of a smile, and with that plan finalized I give her a quick kiss before embracing her. I still don't think words can truly describe how happy I am for things to have gone this way; I could say it once, then again, and perhaps even a few more times, and even after all that I don't think I'd have truly explained my newly-found euphoria.

…yet, I do have all my friends to thank for this, which I'll get around to eventually. Yet while amidst giving Wendy an unexpectedly prolonged hug, something catches my attention from the corner of my eye. Not even a movement; just a strange familiarity, something familiar yet unfamiliar in the surrounding environment….

It's Kyle, watching from the store.

I half-expect him to look happy at the very least, happy that his plan had gone well, happy that I ended up making amends with Wendy. That had seemed like something he wanted, right?—he even wished me well in making amends. Yet, though quite far from where we were, I could still tell that that expression on his face… wasn't at all any form of happiness….

Kyle looks hurt.

And for some reason, I feel hurt, too.

* * *

_Posted: January 24__th__, 2008.  
_

_Reminder: Please leave a review. Otherwise Cartman will turn your parents into chili con carne and feed it to kids around the world. _


	18. Asymptote

_Asymptote_

September's almost near. I can almost taste it.

Since reconciling with Wendy, it had felt almost as if time had sped up much more quickly than it had before. There had no longer been any anticipation being built toward one particular event or occurrence. I no longer had to worry about Wendy hating me; instead she called me regularly, and the only anticipation I felt now was my having to wait for her daily call to lighten my mood. We saw each other often, though not bordering an obsessive amount, but it was enough to sate me, to assure me things weren't in the wrong.

Kyle and I were okay again, too. I no longer asked myself if things were fine between us; the awkwardness between us only occurred occasionally, usually when I brought Wendy along with me. Sometimes I'd just avoided having the two near each other altogether, but then again it wasn't exactly my fault. Wendy had no hard feelings toward Kyle; it was mostly self-generated on his part. And even though I knew exactly why he didn't feel too comfortable about Wendy, there wasn't much I could do.

The only not-so-well occurrences regarded Kenny. He had stayed in my house every other night; the other nights he bore sleeping at his house. Whenever I asked him he said he was handling it, yet occasionally I'd see him the next day there'd be a bruise here and there. But it hadn't exactly been an easy topic to bring up, so as time went on it had become more or less a taboo subject to discuss, and I'd only mention it when need be.

Today happens to be one of those days where Kenny's out doing something at his house, and consequently he's not next to me in bed. Instead it's just the typical summer morning I've grown quite tired of. Sometimes I wonder if going back to school might make that better, having a reason to actually wake up each morning. Then I wouldn't find myself so bored.

Of course, that's when I remind myself that I'd rather be bored than have piles of homework assignments to accomplish. But at least with that I'd have Kyle to help me… which is probably why I've woken up a little earlier than usual….

…which is also why the doorbell's ringing, I suppose….

Kyle's coming over to help me write my essay for the summer reading assignment. And with that thought finally processing through my mind, I get out of bed and head to answer the door.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," I reply, stepping aside to let him in. "Thanks for this, by the way… your help, I mean."

"Ah, don't worry about it," Kyle replies, waving a hand. "I don't mind anyway."

"You don't…?" but I let the question go as he quickly heads up to my room. Part of me wants to know why Kyle really doesn't mind, since it's not like he craves for homework or anything, but I merely let it go and follow him up the stairs.

Time passes very slowly at first. Initially we don't do anything except sit in silence, partially because it's too early to think, and partially because I feel like doing anything except this essay. But eventually Kyle does take control of the situation, and we begin discussing the book we had to read.

After about twenty minutes he gets off my bed, walks over to my computer and turns it on. Talking about the book had been the easier part; but actually writing the essay….

"I never know how to start," I mumble quietly, and Kyle gives a sympathetic nod. "I just hate writing introductions. Mr. Nippelchuar told us last year to stop writing cliché introductions and stuff, but… like, I dunno how else I'd go about doing it…."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." There's a silence as we both wait for the computer to boot. Kyle starts talking about some strategies he'd picked up throughout his high school years—like using quotes, examining the situation from an outside point of view, and the like—but most of them still fall somewhat in the range of cliché introductions.

"Sometimes it's better to just stick with the cliché," he says, opening a word processor when my laptop finally finishes loading up. "Or even better, if you can't think of an introduction, sometimes it's better to just skip it altogether and start writing the major stuff. You can go back to it later, anyway."

…I feel like I'm in class again, listening to a teacher's lecture once more. Or even just a personal tutor, which I suppose more accurately resembles the truth of the matter. Still, when I tell Kyle this it merely makes him laugh, and he continues to help me with my essay.

For the most part we're on a roll. I continue to type out sentence after sentence as Kyle helps me word my thoughts, and the fact that he's discussing this with me helps me understand the story more. We even ignore my mom's lunch call in order to keep going with my essay.

And actually, now that I know what the book was trying to get across, I think I actually like it more. But what I don't understand is why authors are so verbose in what they want to say. I'm sure if they used much simpler language more people would understand the message and like it. But then, I suppose any person is capable of producing thoughts. Authors are celebrated because of the emotions they can arouse in readers to reach that point.

…or at least, that's what Kyle tells me. But I agree with him completely, anyway.

I think it's around three in the afternoon when we stop for lunch. Thanks to Kyle, I've pretty much knocked out the entire essay, though I still have an introduction and a conclusion to go. Part of me feels somewhat bad, though; after all, Kyle pretty much aided me throughout the entire thing, and though he did incite thought of my own, most of it was because of him hinting at major key points. The essay is practically his thoughts, written by me, and I feel bad for having asked his help through the majority of it.

…I wonder if he's even written his own, yet.

"Yeah, months ago," he says, smiling as he bites into one of the sandwiches my mom's prepared for us. "I don't even know why you asked. For all the years you've known me, Stan—since when would I be one to put homework off?"

"Never, I guess." I smile as he downs the food in his mouth. "Fine, whatever. You and your… academic self."

"It makes my summer less painful," he says with a laugh. I guess I'd have to agree with him there…. "These sandwiches are very tasty, by the way," he adds, looking over to my mom, who's currently doing something at the kitchen table. Probably doing the bills, since my dad won't do them.

"Oh, don't give me any credit, Kyle," she says, waving a hand. "I got them from the grocery store. Nothing I could've made."

"Oh." Kyle makes an awkward face before turning to me again. "Anyway, you've got any idea about your conclusion yet?"

"Huh…?" For some reason it takes me a few moments to realize he's moved back to the essay. "Er, I've got a few ideas. I guess the easiest way would be to summarize stuff…." Kyle merely frowns and furrows his brow, turning away. Admittedly, today has been an okay day for us so far. There hasn't been much tension between us as there usually is, especially since it's just been the two of us with no Wendy. But I suppose the only reason we've achieved this is because I haven't brought her up, and the only things we've been talking about for the past few hours are my essay and the book we had to read.

A part of me really wanted to do something to fix the relationship between Kyle and Wendy. And it definitely wasn't something that was kept taboo amongst the three of us. Wendy knew that Kyle didn't like him too much, and she'd even brought it up to me once or twice. And Kyle—his attempts to hide his discomfort weren't too successful. Part of me just wanted to tell Kyle to do something to make it better, to make amends with whatever was bothering him, just to make it easier for all of us to be friends once more, to move on.

…but then, the other part of me wants him to do it on his own, without my guidance, so he can see for himself what he's doing. But the more I see this behavior of his, the less the latter influences me. Especially after Kyle guiding me with my essay, I feel more inclined to do my part in guiding….

"Stan…?" I shake my head once and blink to find Kyle eyeing me curiously. Even my mother from the table is looking at me with a curious expression. Way to zone out, Stan….

"Uh, if you're done eating, we can head back upstairs…." Not exactly the smoothest way to pull that off, admittedly, but nevertheless Kyle nods and gives his final thanks for the meal. We both trudge silently upstairs, and thereafter we enter my room and begin working on the essay once more.

It doesn't take as long to finish. It would've been quicker than it already was, had it not been for my sudden lack of interest in finishing. Yet Kyle had forced me to finish, almost yelling at me once, and by the time we did finish I found myself practically dead on my bed.

…of course, the ringing of my cell phone had indeed changed that.

"Faster than a mouse for cheese," Kyle mutters slyly before I pick up the call.

"Hello?" I ask into the phone, giving Kyle a glare. "Hey, Wends."

Unsurprisingly, Kyle's facial expression changes at the mentioning of her name.

"You okay?" she asks, and I quickly bite my lips. Apparently she can hear my frustration…. "I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?"

"No…" I mutter kinda pathetically, looking over to Kyle. "I was having help with my essay, but we just finished…."

"I'll wait downstairs," Kyle mouths, but before I can give him a reply he storms out of my room and slams the door behind him.

"You_ sure_ you don't want me to call back at a different time?" Wendy asks into the phone, but I convince her otherwise. "Wanna talk about it, then?"

"Not really," I reply. So, instead, we start talking about the essay I'd just finished. Wendy, it seems, had finished all her homework before leaving to visit her grandmother, which means I'm pretty much the only person who had left it off until now. Not that it mattered, because in the end my essay was longer than hers.

Hurray for procrastination.

"You feel like doing something tomorrow?" Wendy asks in a light tone. "Like, go to Stark's Pond? Maybe the park? I think you could use an outing…."

"Why not today?" I ask her curiously. "I might need one now."

"You have things to sort out, by what I can tell." I sigh into the phone; yeah, I suppose I do. Kyle's just being dandy downstairs…. "Though I don't know what's been up with him, I know he has good intentions. Just… I dunno, talk it out with him? I hate having him angry with me…."

If only you knew why….

"I'll talk to him." A small pause. "I'll talk to him now, I suppose…. I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Sounds good." And with that, after exchanging farewells, I hang up. For a moment I just stand there, unsure of what exactly I'm supposed to be doing. I'd just promised Wendy to talk to Kyle, but… then what? Not even moments before, I'd been arguing with myself an approach to this….

Deciding that leaving my room would be a start, I open the door and make my way downstairs. Except, to my surprise, I find Kyle against the opposite wall, who looks up at me when I come closer.

"Thought you were downstairs," I ask him quietly, sliding down next to him. He merely grunts at me, staring hard at the door in front of us. "Anyway, Wendy said hey, wondered what the slam of the door was for…."

"You didn't tell her, did you?"

I shrug. "I dunno what I'd tell her, when I barely know myself." In truth I did know, or had at least assumed enough to understand the gist of it. But of course, it would be nice to hear it from his mouth….

"I think you do," he mumbles, gaze unmoving. "I think you know just as well as I do. And I hate how you act like you don't."

I don't answer immediately, though perhaps for good reason. I try keeping my frustration to a low when I answer, though I think I fail in some regard. "So… how am I supposed to act, then? Would you rather make a big deal out of things and have everything just messed up? I'm pretty sure you said you didn't want this to get between us. So how else would you go about doing this, then?"

When he doesn't reply, I continue. "I figured making things as normal as possible would make things as we both want them to be. But if this doesn't suit you, then tell me: What can I do to make things better?"

"…nothing…."

I sigh. "Kyle, don't do this to me…. Tell me what you want…."

He bites his lip. "Other than you?"

I gulp. "…yeah, other than that. How can I make things better for the both of us?—actually, let's start here: Why are you holding something against Wendy? She's barely got a part in this."

"I've got nothing against her," Kyle mutters, though I know we both know better. Silence can be a form of hostility, after all. "Well, nothing against her, really… I'm just jealous of her, I guess. I can't really help it."

I gape. "Jealous? Jealous of what?"

I realize the answer a bit too late. "How she… how she gets to…."

He doesn't need to say anything more. Even now, I'm still incredibly oblivious. Perhaps in the heat of the moment I forget things like this, such as an answer to an incredibly obvious question. Even if I try thinking about why things are the way they are, it seems I merely forget about it again when the time comes to actually needing to know them.

Kyle does continue though, with a much quieter tone. "…most of this is my fault, I know…. But most of it I can't help, either. I mean, some people say it's all a matter of choice, and I guess that much is true. But no one ever said that each choice was equally easy to make, you know? I mean… I could choose to stop… liking… but actually committing day-after-day to stop… it's a lot harder. When I guess it'd be so much easier to just keep doing it….

"I hate having to suppress this, Stan. Something as nice of a feeling as this shouldn't have to be kept inside. But then I realize I have to, because the circumstances around me won't allow for such nice feelings to continue. And then the painful part comes when I have to stop what I'm doing to please other people, to make them not hate me…. I hate that feeling so much, having to do something to benefit someone else. And yeah, it makes you happier when that person is happier, yet it also kills you on the inside, having to give something up to make things better….

"I don't want to have to stop, even though I know I should. I don't want to stop pretending that you can… love… me…. I don't want to forget what being held by you feels like, how happy I feel when you still call me your Super Best Friend. And maybe that's the only solace in suppressing such feelings, knowing that it'll allow me to grow closer to you again. But yet, maybe that's something I should avoid, for being this close will only make me like you all the more…."

Much to my surprise, he stops. For a moment we're just there, sitting on the ground and very much vulnerable to the rest of my family. Part of me wants to suggest moving into my room where we're less likely to be disturbed—but the other part of me is afraid to make a disturbance, as if ruining things would ruin… other things….

Eventually, after a gulp, I do speak. "…if you want hugs I can still give them to you…. I mean, I don't see why that has to change…."

"But it's not the same," Kyle mutters, quietly enough only for me to hear. "I guess I wouldn't mind it, anyway. But I guess… I guess it's different, too. I mean like… in a meaningful manner. When you hug me, it's only casually, from one guy to another, as far as only caring for friends would allow. What I mean is to be held… like as you'd hold Wendy, I guess…. And yeah, I suppose I can't forget that feeling if I'm not sure what it feels like, but…."

Another silence follows. Somewhere downstairs I can hear Shelley cursing about something, followed closely by my mom's mutterings. But other than that, the air around us is pretty much quiet….

"I really… don't know what to say…." I say at last, staring at the side of Kyle's face. And I really don't know what to think. Somewhere between his accidental confession and now I hadn't even thought about what Kyle could be feeling. Sure, I knew something about his emotions, but…. I never thought he could be feeling so much. And the most painful part was that there wasn't much I could do to help him….

"That's also why I'm jealous of Wendy," he continues, though he doesn't say much thereafter. "I mean, she gets to do what I find myself wanting to do…."

There's another silence afterward, though this time probably for good measure. Shelley looks at us oddly as she walks up the stairs and passes us to get to her room. Even moments after she's safely in her room, we don't say much.

"Now that I think about it," Kyle mumbles, looking away. "…I guess you're like my asymptote."

"Asymptote?" I echo, tilting my head.

"Yeah… you remember what that is, right?"

"Yeah, I do, it's just… I don't get it."

Kyle gives a laugh. "Well like… I dunno how to explain it…. Like, I find myself wanting to get closer and closer to you… but I never actually get to touch you, you know….?" To this I laugh, shaking my head, and I even get Kyle to laugh with me. A terrible analogy, admittedly, yet… it works….

"Here," I manage at last, bringing myself to a standing position. Kyle merely watches me from the ground. "Come on, dude, up."

He does as I tell him to. And then I embrace him into a hug. I try to make it as he says, but somehow I know I'm failing. It's odd how you only become conscious of details once someone's pointed them out to you.

"You're my Super Best Friend," I remind him, placing my head on his shoulder. "And that means I love you more than you might think. Probably not as much as you'd like me to, but I'm not sure I can do much about that…."

He lets go and nods. "You don't have to. I'll worry about that on my own…."

"That's not the point though," I interject. "The point is, though I may not love you as you'd want me to, that doesn't mean I don't care about you. I'll do what I can to make things easier on you, whenever I can get myself to remember. But… just do me one favor…?"

Kyle looks at me with hesitance. "…yeah?"

"Don't be so cruel on Wendy? I guess you've got some right to be jealous of her, but… it's not her fault. Promise me you won't let that get between you guys. The two of you at ends makes it uncomfortable for me, you know?"

Kyle merely grumbles, but he does manage to let out a nod. "I guess I could do that," he says after a while. "I mean, we aren't incredibly great friends to begin with, but I'll do what I can."

"Thanks," is all he says. Thereafter we enter silence again, but this time neither of us seeks an excuse to break it. I retreat to my room, and he follows, and there the two of us literally do nothing except listen to the sounds outside. Somehow, though I've said it before, we've reached an understanding.

"Wanna go to my house and play the Okama Gamesphere?" offers Kyle, to which my face brightly lights up. "Of course, I'm just gonna own you again, but I'll at least give you the chance of trying."

I gape at his boldness and even punch his arm for the insult. "You are _on_, dude." And with that, we both scurry past a confused-looking mother and into my car.

Throughout the drive, however, there's only one thing I can really think of.

Me? An asymptote…?

That's so… so very….

Kyle.

* * *

_Posted: March 2nd, 2008._

_As a reminder, please don't forget to review this story before leaving. Otherwise Satan will try taking over the world again - and this time, he might succeed._

_-Zak_


	19. Inconsistency

_Inconsistency  
_

Yesterday was Labor Day, otherwise known as our last day of vacation before school started.

Part of me feels sad that vacation ended. So much has happened in the course of two months—and even so, so much _hasn't_ happened. I suppose that's why the other half of me _does_ want to go to school, because I had spent way too many days doing nothing, all to the point where I began to wish I _did_ have school to occupy me with again once more.

Kyle feels the same way, based on what he told me. We spent yesterday morning by Stark's, thinking over where life was going to take us, and it had only been then that we realized what was in store for us: Graduation, college, finding a house, having our own families…. It wasn't even guaranteed we'd still be close to each other in that future.

But for the present's sake, we had agreed to not think about it until we got there, and we had spent the rest of the day doing other things. Wendy had even met up with us, and the three of us (along with Kenny) had eaten out towards the nighttime. A final outing, a toast to our final year in high school… something along those lines.

Now we're just in the aftermath of vacation, and the excitement is quickly fading away. Here's an example: Kenny woke me up with a bullhorn, practically molested me in his happiness, and waited at my car eagerly well before I had even finished breakfast. When I first picked up Kyle, he gave me an enthusiastic high five and a playful punch to my shoulder. When I got to Wendy's front door, I was greeted with a kiss that I'm sure would've made Kenny whack it right there and then in my car if he'd seen it.

Now… not so much. We haven't even gotten to the school yet, and already the mood's significantly different.

"I don't wanna go to school anymore," mumbles Kenny.

Wendy sighs. "That's not what you were saying last night, Ken."

"That's what she said."

"You did that on purpose!"

"You brought all your summer work, right?" Kyle asks me, leaning forward to let me know he's talking to me. "I'd kill you if you forgot, especially since I basically did it for you."

"So you noticed," I mumbled quietly, pressing on the brake softly. "I felt bad, but I didn't know if you intended to do it for me or what…."

"I dunno… that was a while ago, Stan. Either way, at least you have it done."

"Yeah…." I return my focus to the road, though all I see is a red light once more. Of all the few street lights in South Park, _this_ one had to be red….

"Wendy, I'm hungry, what do you have to eat?"

I hear Wendy looking through her lunch bag as the light turns green once more. "Let's see, I have water, a sandwich, some nuts, and a bag of—"

"Nuts?" Kenny asks, seemingly flabbergasted.

From the review mirror I see Wendy nod. "What? I like nuts, they're a good—"

"That's what she said."

"Stop that already, Ken, it's getting annoying."

"You know you like it." I can hear both him and Kyle laughing in the backseat, and Wendy gives an ultimate sigh of frustration before turning to me.

"Make him stop, please," she pleads, leaning on my side.

I bite my lip, looking into her eyes before beginning to laugh. "That's what she said, Wendy."

"_Yes_!" Kenny cries triumphantly from the backseat, giving my shoulder a fairly heavy pat. "Nice one, Stan."

I look sympathetically to the girl next to me, who has shrunken back in her seat, pouting. "I'm sorry Wends," I say apologetically, "but I couldn't help it. Had to say it, you know. Couldn't pass up an opportunity like that."

"Whatever, Stan… you'll get it from me, later."

At that moment Kenny decides to taunt me, saying things like "_oh, Stan's gonna get it, now!_"—but I ignore him for the time being. My eyes are focused more on the parking lot, which is a lot fuller than it usually is. More than likely due to the same craze Kenny was on earlier, but still….

"Good luck finding a spot," Kyle says, grinning. "You might be out here for days."

"At least it'll means a few more days off of school," I say with a smile, and the car laughs with me.

-

Since it _was_ the fourth time I'd done this, the beginning procedures of school were quite tedious. Going to homeroom—one of five times we'd ever go there—then first period, then second…. Even if we were a grade ahead this time, the schedule was still the same, our routines as systematic as they'd always been.

I didn't see everyone when I thought I'd see them, though. I used to see Kyle after first, and we'd walk together to our second period. But now we didn't have the same first _or_ second class; Kyle was off taking an insane amount of AP classes, and most of them didn't have me in them. Still, we did have the same Calculus class, so I'd at least be seeing him then, too.

That also applied to Wendy, too. Actually, both she and Kyle had the exact same schedule, except the language choice. After all, Wendy wanted to be valedictorian. I supposed that partially fueled their earlier dislike for each other, both wanting the title of valedictorian…. But I'm glad they've made up by now, or at least it seems. But even if they haven't, at least they're doing a good job pretending.

So naturally, not having Kyle or Wendy in any of my classes had made the first half of the day somewhat boring. Lunch was after fourth period, which made fourth period the longest class I'd ever felt, and the longing to go to lunch only made waiting all the more painful. It was AP English Literature—not the class Kyle was in though, nor Wendy. Taking so many of those college classes made their schedules rather difficult to configure, and I suppose with that in mind they couldn't possibly take AP Lit the same period I did.

So, basically, I was alone.

"Okay class," the teacher begins, clearing his throat; "before we begin I'd like all of you to pass up your summer assignments? Assuming you all did them." Almost instinctively I reach down to my left side and begin searching through the contents of my bag. There wasn't much in it yet, though that'd surely change soon, but that still wasn't helping me find the essay….

"Oh shit, Kyle's gonna kill me…" I mumble to myself, going through the empty folders my mom had bought for me the night before.

"'Course he will," mutters someone beside me, and I look up partially to see Craig looking down on me. I only glare at him for a moment—his dark hair, eyes like mine, the features that make some people mistake him for me at first glance—before returning to find my essay. Craig and I don't get along too well with each other, you could say. Not that we have anything against each other, or at least not now. I dunno, we were at odds back in elementary school, and I guess that had always prevented that separation from ever being closed.

Not that I wanted to be his friend or anything. I had enough as it was….

"Mr. Marsh?" I look up to see the teacher hovering at my desk, and to my left I hear Craig snicker. "You have your paper?"

"I'm looking for it," I reply quietly. "I know I did it. I'll turn it to you before I leave today, when I find it."

The teacher gives me a funny look at that suggestion. "Mr. Marsh, you _sure_ you did the assignment, right?"

"Yeah, of course!" but Craig's snickering next to me makes it seem like I'm still lying. "I typed it up, anyway, so it's not like I'll be trying to finish it up during class or anything." That logic seems enough for the teacher, who sighs before moving back up to the front of the room.

…maybe I do have a reason to hate Craig, now.

"Thanks asshole," I hiss at him, "now he thinks I'm just lying at his face, giving him some fuckin' excuse."

Craig gives me the finger, shaking his head. "Whoa, whoa, there, calm down boy. Cussing isn't in your nature." At this I just ignore him, returning to my search for that paper…. Kyle went over to my house! I _know_ I… he… did it! "Besides," he continues, though I'm only partially listening, "it's not against the law to laugh at something funny, is it?"

"I guess not," I reply absentmindedly.

"No, it's not."

Silence.

"…so now that I have those in, I guess I'll have to introduce myself. My name is…."

"Kyle still gonna kill you?" Craig asks, and I can feel him leaning closer somewhat. Presumably not too close though, or else Mr. I-didn't-catch-what-your-name-was would get curious.

"Yeah," I mumble back; "what's it to you?"

"Just curious."

Thankfully, it's at this time that I find my paper, stashed inside one of the many folders I thought were empty.

Mr. I-still-don't-know-your name looks at me kind of suspiciously, but he at least accepts it.

And then the bell rings—which surprises me, since I really didn't think class had been that long.

"You're doing a good job, by the way," Craig manages to tell me before he gets up to gather his stuff.

"What?"

"Like I said," he mutters, "you're doing a good job. Better than me, at least."

I shake my head. "I don't understand."

But he only smiles cheekily before giving me the finger. "Later, fucker."

-

By the end of the day there's really not much I want to think about. First days of school usually are quite tiring, and I'm glad this is the last one I'll have to do for high school. Listening to all the course introductions, the teacher introductions, the students introducing each other, the course syllabi… sometimes it doesn't even feel worth it to come to school today, especially since teachers usually do a crappy job at taking attendance.

Lunch was not even half as eventful as I'd hoped it to be. First we found a table to sit at, which was basically the same table we'd sit in for the rest of the year. Then we explored the wonderful 'new' lunches they promised us last year, but it looked like the same menus, just cooked better. And though I'm not complaining, since the food happened to also taste better, Kenny had definitely felt quite disappointed.

Then we just talked about the occurrences of the day. I didn't tell anyone about what Craig had told me at the end of class though, since I really didn't understand it myself. There was no point in sharing it if I could barely talk about it, right? But it ended up okay, because Kyle and Wendy (with the help of Kenny) had many things to talk about. I don't remember the exact details of the conversation anymore of course, since I'm quite burnt out, but I do remember Kenny had scored with the 'that's what she said' jokes, and Kyle and Wendy complaining about their teachers so far.

Calculus was at least bearable, being able to talk to both Kyle and Wendy. Wendy had been smart; in order to talk to me she had passed notes. Kyle on the other hand found this rather elementary and we simply talked directly. Consequently, the teacher (some lady whose name I forgot to catch, again) scolded at the two of us, and later gave us detention we'd serve later in the week. Kyle hadn't seemed to mind too much, and in a way I hadn't either—as long as it hadn't been that day, because I _really_ wanted to go home.

And I did. Eventually. That is, after we chased down Kenny, who was busy trying to get someone's number. Oddly enough though, he had given it to someone else right as we were exiting the school doors.

"Someone asked me a favor," Kenny's explaining to me now as we're driving home. "Wanted a girl's number and didn't have the guts. You know how that goes."

"Maybe," I reply nonchalantly, gaze unmoved from the road. "Usually when I liked someone I already knew her number."

"I didn't say the kid liked the girl," Kenny says, raising his eyebrows. "Just wanted her number."

"Why else would he want it?" Wendy asks, curiously. "I mean, usually when a guy asks for a girl's number, isn't the motive always the same as any other guy's…?"

Kenny shrugs, leaning over into Kyle's seat. "Ah, I dunno. What do you think, Kyle?"

"I dunno. If anyone knew it'd be you, wouldn't it?"

Kenny sighs. "Yeah, true. Maybe I should've asked."

"You copied the math homework, right Stan?"

"Yeah, of course, you made sure I did."

"Really, I did?"

"Yeah dude, you were pretty angry that I almost forgot. Why'd you ask, though?"

"Strange, I didn't copy it down."

"That's awfully ironic," Wendy mutters, laughing to herself.

"Dude, I can give it to you if you want. Though I can't believe you forgot to copy it down, Kyle."

"Yeah, sorry…. Don't give it to me now though, you're driving."

"Oh, right, I knew that." I laugh, shaking my head. "I mean of course I knew that, I wasn't gonna go get it or anything—"

"Let it rest, Stan," Kenny mumbles, and strangely enough the car grows quiet after that. A little too quiet, actually, so much that I can actually hear Kenny whispering something in Kyle's ear. And by the looks of my review mirror, I don't think I'm meant to know they're talking….

"So Kenny," I say quite loudly, and Kenny jumps in his seat. "Am I dropping you off at your house or are you staying at mine?"

"Yours of course," he replies, and I nod. "But don't forget to pass by the pharmacy though."

I frown, tilting my head in confusion. "Huh, why?"

I catch Kenny smirking in the backseat. "For condoms, of course. We used them all up last night, remember?"

Wendy turns in her seat and punches Kenny in the knee. And from the vocalizations he's making in recoil, it seem to have hurt. A lot.

"That wasn't necessary at all!" Kenny howls, moaning as he leans into Kyle. "Kyle, doctor, help me, my knee's bleeding!"

Kyle just looks at him, shrugging.

"As if what you said was necessary!" Wendy exclaims back, and though she's yelling at him I can still tell she's joking… maybe.

"What'd you know?" I announce, causing all the commotion behind me to stop. "We're at Kyle's."

"No we're not!" Kenny yells, and then he looks out Kyle's window. "Okay, maybe we are."

"I'll see you tomorrow then?" I ask, giving him a smile. "I'm picking you up the same time tomorrow, right?"

Kyle nods. "Yeah, same time. But, uh…."

"Yeah?"

"Calc homework?"

"Oh, right! Hold on." Kenny laughs at me when I almost trip out of my own car, but I merely ignore him as I go to my trunk to get out my planner. "I still find that funny, you were basically scolding me, and you didn't even do it yourself…."

"Shut up," he replies tersely, and I pat him on the back as I begin to dictate the homework to him. "Thanks, Stan."

"No problem." And I give him one last farewell before we go our separate ways.

-

I'm lying awake next to Kenny. In the same bed.

I'm not really sure how that started. I think I was here first, actually, just thinking about things I don't remember thinking about. Probably about high school, moving on, being together with friends for only one more year….

And then Kenny ended up on my bed. Actually, now I'm positive I was here first, because he jumped quite wildly on the bed to let me know he was in my room. And I may've punched him once or twice in the knee (the other one) for it.

But then, after that… I don't remember. He kinda just slid in next to me and stared at the ceiling with me. I don't remember how long or why he's even there. He's just… there.

My mom came in once. She looked at us really funny but said nothing. I said nothing either, and Kenny likewise. She turned off the light before leaving, though, and I would've thought I'd at least get some sleep in the darkness.

But no. I'm still awake. And by the way Kenny's breathing, I think he is too.

"You still there?" I ask the darkness, but I get nothing. Maybe Kenny really is asleep….

"Yeah," he replies, just when I had concluded he was asleep. "Sorry, I was just thinking about stuff…."

"I figured," I mumble, nodding. "I've been doing the same."

"Yeah…. I figured." He gives a low chuckle, and I think he shifts himself on the bed so he's facing me now. "Feel like sharing?"

"You first."

"I asked first."

I sigh. "Damnit, Kenny, fine." Kenny only laughs before shifting once again. I think he's facing the ceiling again. "Well, basically just about life… you know? I know it's a long time away from now, but… eventually we're gonna get to the end. We're going to be leaving. We're gonna move on…. And I dunno, it seems kinda exciting, but at the same time everything's gonna change, everyone's gonna leave… and I dunno if I really do find that exciting to look forward to."

There's only a silence after that. Kenny moves in spot several times, but he doesn't actually respond. Once again I lapse into thought; he's probably just thinking about what I said. And I suppose it is the truth, the end will be both painful and happy to reach… and it's something everyone's gonna have to experience on their own, everyone's choice to decide if they'll like it or not.

I wonder for a moment how it's going to be for Kenny. My first instinct is that he's actually going to be quite happy about it. But I guess that's really only if he lives at dorms. I have no idea if he can afford to live on campus or not… and if he can't, then I suppose the end of high school won't mean too much for him then, because he'll just be moving on to a continuation of the hell he's been going through at his own house…. And even with Kyle, would we be Super Best Friends anymore, with all those miles between us? And would Wendy and I still be able to keep our relationship alive after high school ends?

"Stan…?"

I blink. "Yeah?"

"I was just thinking…." Kenny sighs, shifting his position on the bed again. I swear, my dad better not walk through that door anytime soon…. "If you keep thinking it's the end… maybe it actually will be the end…. But if you don't see it as the end, if you see it as just a change and nothing more… it won't be.

"I dunno if that even makes sense or not, Stan, but basically… it's only going to be the end if you want it to be. If you truly care about what you have now… you won't ever lose anything important to you, you know? At least, that's what I've come to believe, and I'm pretty sure I'm right, you know?"

I nod quietly to myself. "Yeah…. Yeah, I guess you're right."

Wise words coming from Kenny, as always. And that's the thing with Kenny, sometimes he can be so random and so perverted, yet when you really need him to just say something fitting he knows exactly what to say. And involuntarily, just by repeating his words in my head again, most of my thoughts and worries disappear. Living now, dealing with change when it gets here… treasuring those around me now…. That's something I'll have to start working on.

There's only one thing that bothers me now, though….

"So what's been bugging you, then?" I ask Kenny curiously. "I told you my problems, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I guess you did." He chuckles to himself, and after the creaking of my moment I suddenly feel a weight on top of me….

"Uh, Ken?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you on me?"

"I dunno." He clears his throat, and seconds later I can feel his face right against mine, and now I'm just… I…. "I didn't really have any problems to ponder over, I'm sure you knew that. Right, Stan?"

"I…" but I can't answer him, I'm too distracted with his blowing into my ear…. "Ken, stop that."

"Fine." And instantly it's over. But he's still on me, and I'm still awfully confused as to what's going on or as to what's just happened….

As if reading my thoughts, Kenny continues. "I just needed an alibi to be next to you, that's all. And now tomorrow I can truthfully say I got you in bed to Wendy. I mean after all, I did get you, didn't I? I made you think I was plagued by something and just _had_ to spend hours thinking about it."

"Kenny, you're a cruel bastard, you know that, right?"

"Is that what you think or what Wendy thinks?" I can faintly hear him blowing a kiss before I feel the weight getting off me. "Anyway, tomorrow ought to be fun, don't you think? I'll sleep on the floor tonight, since I guess I owe you anyway. Goodnight!"

…fucking… bastard….

Something tells me he really was thinking about something, though. But I guess I'll never know, will I?

* * *

_Posted: May 18th, 2008_

_Just a friendly reminder: Please review. I'd like to make sure if I still had people reading along with my writing, despite my unwanted absence._

_And thanks for making this story my most reviewed story yet! That makes me happy, especially since we're still 12 chapters shorter than Faith!_

_-Zak_


	20. Awkwardness

**HAPPY 10-MONTH ANNIVERSARY, WNLB! :)**

* * *

_Awkwardness_

Lunchtime, by far, produces the most interesting conversations.

Today, for example:

"I slept with your boyfriend last night, Wendy! Are you jealous?" That would be Kenny, of course, still trying to piss Wendy off. And I'm still not sure why, either…. And I can't really protest against it either, especially since it's partially true. But I hadn't expected Wendy to actually make a comeback, especially since all of yesterday she had taken Kenny's jokes rather calmly.

"Of course, just as jealous as you are of Stan's size… and I'm sure you _would_ be if you really did sleep with him." And from there, really, the entire conversation takes an incredible turn. I don't contribute much, though, especially since I find it to be a rather awkward conversation. But as awkward as it is, at least it makes good entertainment.

What followed after went something like this:

"What are you talking about, Wendy? Stan's not that big at all! Besides, even if he is, I'm sure I'm bigger, anyway."

"Really? How big are you?"

Cartman comes in at this point. "Hate to say it, guys, but I'm definitely bigger than any of you."

Kyle: "Yeah, you could crush a whale!"

"Shut it, Jew!"

"Seven inches!" Kenny exclaims proudly, just as Cartman exclaims "three-twenty!" Then, right after, Wendy yells "rubbish" at Kenny while Kyle exclaims "Jesus!"

"Oh really?" Kenny asks. "So how big is he, then?" he adds, nudging his head over in my direction.

"I wouldn't know! I'm not a slut! Ask him yourself!"

"How'd you know I'd be jealous? You don't even know how big _he_ is!"

"I was just complimenting my boyfriend, that's all."

"Whatever, then." Kenny turns to me. "How big are you, Stan?" Alas, the awkward question. Not that I'm ashamed of my answer or anything, but just… in general this is a rather odd conversation. So instead, I take a moment to listen to Kyle and Cartman bicker.

"…my _god_, Cartman, I hope you're talking about the time. Because fucking _Christ_, that's humongous."

"You're just jealous because you aren't as big as I am."

"I wouldn't want to be as big as you, fatass! God, you're so fucking fat you couldn't even compete as a heavyweight in wrestling."

"Yeah, dude," I chime in, "Cartman would probably have to do sumo or something."

"Stan, quit avoiding the question!" Kenny exclaims, and now I'm pretty sure he's dying to know how big I am now. Whether for proving a point or just for his personal perverted reasons… I don't really wanna know.

I suppose I can't avoid it forever, though….

"Six and a half," I respond, just as I hear Kyle telling Cartman off yet again.

"See Wendy, I _told_ you I was bigger than him!"

"You could've lied about it…" Wendy hisses to me under her breath, and I merely shrug.

"I'm five-eight!" Kyle exclaims immediately afterwards, and for a second I frown. Five-eight? Who measures _that_ accurately?—but then I realize he's only talking about his height, because right away he adds: "and I'm _only_ one hundred ten pounds."

"So I weight three times more than you," Cartman says, shrugging it off. "So what? I can crush you. Who cares?"

Kenny laughs, turning back to me. "You know, for a second there I thought Kyle was talking about his—"

"—yeah, me too," I cut him off, not wanting him to finish.

Kenny continues. "You know, I'm pretty sure if I actually measured with a ruler I'd be at least seven and a half…."

I laugh at Wendy's scoff.

"Wonder how big they are," Kenny asks himself, rubbing his chin while looking at the remaining two boys at our table. "Anyone want to play a guessing game with me?"

"Cartman's small," Wendy says almost immediately. And this, of course, raises eyebrows, especially from me. Or maybe I'm better off not knowing…. "He was stupid enough to tell me once," she explains rather quickly, and Kenny nods his head understandingly.

"Well what about Kyle, then?" Kenny asks, running a hand through his hair. "I'm thinking… I dunno. He looks like a guy who'd have an average length. Maybe five or six?"

"Maybe five," Wendy says quietly, rather emotionlessly. Except I don't think she means to sound cold in expression, because the two had made up a while back. Maybe just contemplative….

"You've seen his boner before, Stan, how big is he?"

"_What_?"—except, my exclamation is probably ten times louder than that. I'm pretty sure heads turn as I say it. Even Kyle and Cartman stop their argument to see why I'd just screamed.

"Oh no, don't be defensive about it dude, you're fine." Kenny nods, waving his hand, shrugging as if it was no big deal. Except, the face on Wendy's face tells me otherwise. But I guess she's not one to talk for knowing Cartman's… yeah. "You guys are Super Best Friends, anyway," Kenny adds, now catching Kyle's attention especially. "That basically grants you rights to know."

"Know what?" Kyle asks, frowning. Using facial expression I try telling him to stop inquiring that he doesn't want to know what we're talking about, but I don't think he quite gets it…. "Ken?"

"Whatever… just ask him yourself," I tell Kenny, and again I feel similar to how Wendy probably felt just moments ago.

"I think I shall," Kenny says, turning to Kyle. "Basically, we're trying to guess how big you are."

Kyle gives a silent 'ah,' smiling. "Still talking about that, are we?"

Kenny nods. "Yeah. So how big are you."—not even a question.

"Bigger than he is," Kyle says, nudging his head at Cartman. "And since one connotation of that statement is obviously false, you know what I mean."

"Aye, I'm three hundred twenty pounds, Jew!"

"How big is your penis?" Kenny asks, redirecting the question to Cartman… though apparently we already know the general answer to that.

"Four and a half inches, and proud of it!"

…

"Told you I was bigger than him," Kyle mutters quietly, raising his eyebrows a little. "You can't even red-rocket with a size like that…."

"Not that I'd want to red-rocket him," I reply, laughing at the childhood joke. Ah the days, back when we thought we could milk dogs…. "Hey, Ken, you want my banana?"

"Hell yes I do!" Kenny exclaims, wiggling his eyebrows. Kyle merely keeps his raised, eyeing the unpeeled banana in my hand rather oddly.

I turn to Cartman. "Cartman, you want it?"

"Nah, I hate bananas."

"So are you bigger than that banana?" Kenny asks Kyle, still not having dropped the subject.

A single word. "Yes."

"_DAMN_!" is the only thing Kenny can manage after that. "So then how big are you?"

"…I think eight."

Kyle wins.

"You're… you're… you're _lying_!" Kenny sputters, shaking his head. "That's, that's… impossible! There's no way you're bigger than me…! I demand proof!"

"Maybe one day," Kyle shrugs, laughing as the bell rings. "Well, I'll see you around."

And he leaves. Along with Kenny's pride.

"…I don't wanna go to class anymore," Kenny mutters, hanging his head.

Wendy is beside herself.

-

The conversations of lunchtime go well past the boundaries of that one-hour period. Even afterward, Kenny keeps talking about Kyle's lie in the hallways, and Wendy fails to forget to remind Kenny of Kyle's triumph. And though now I'm pretty sure it's just for kicks, it's still a tad uncomfortable to listen to. Still, it's quite fun to see Kenny's sexual ego injured, and it's definitely fun to witness while it lasts.

Oddly enough, Kyle doesn't seem to rejoice in this knowledge as much as Wendy seems to be. It's partly surprising, especially since it's usually half a man's ego to boast in his size (or so Kenny tells us, at least). And it's indeed odd when your girlfriend find your best friend's large penis size more interesting than your best friend.

Me? I really don't care much about it… kind of. I mean, once or twice today, while listening to Kenny in the hallway, I _may've_ wondered what it'd be like to have a bigger… yeah. But other than that, I'm not sure if I care too much. Actually, the only thing I really do care about is wondering if Wendy's obsession with it is healthy or not. Sure, she's happy because it's material she can use against Kenny. But still….

"Do you wish I had a bigger cock like Kyle?" I ask her towards the end of Calculus, to which she merely shakes her head.

"No, not really. Besides, when you think about it, it's a lot easier to give head when it can actually fit in my mouth, you know?" With a wink, Wendy smiles at me before turning back to the front of the class. I… I might actually be hard after that.

"Not a slut, huh," Kenny mutters under his breath—which, of course, thereafter leads to yet another argument. I merely shake my head and turn away, leaving the teacher to settle it for herself… if she'd even _want_ to stop such a touchy subject. I instead turn my gaze to Kyle, who gives a slight smile before shaking his head and going back to copying his math notes.

Eight inches….  
I think I unconsciously bring my hands in front of me to imagine how large eight inches actually is.

And of course I immediately bring them back to my desk before Kenny sees what I'm doing. I'm blaming this all on him; since lunchtime I've begun to associate people by their… size. Not even intentionally, either!—I'll see Kenny and immediately think seven inches. Hearing Cartman's voice brings the number four to mind. And Kyle… well….

It's not my fault, either. And I'm afraid to tell this to anyone, especially Kenny, because then he'll just think I'm obsessed with cock. But maybe… maybe I should start thinking of Wendy by her bra size…. I think it's a B cup… maybe C…. Maybe that's not even how you measure bras….

"Only hypothetically of course, Kenny! I wouldn't really do… _that_ kind of thing…."

Is it even possible to give head to someone that big? I mean… unless you only get as much of it as you can in your mouth… but why am I even thinking about this, really? But I feel bad now for the girl who ends up having to give head to Kyle.

…oh wait, guy, never mind, I forgot. But… is Kyle gay? Or just bisexual, me being one of his… yeah. I don't think he ever told me, really. And if he did, then I guess I just don't really remember.

"Wonder if they're ever going to just drop it," Kyle mutters under his breath, turning to me and heaving a sigh. "I'm starting to think I shouldn't have told them…."

"Me too," I add in agreement, biting my lip. But I'm sure it's not for the same reason than what he has in mind….

Kyle only gives a silent nod, watching as the teacher finally decides to shut up Kenny and my girlfriend. "How are you finding this class so far, by the way?"

"What'd you mean?" I ask him, looking at him curiously.

He shrugs again. "Well, I dunno…. Just asking, really."

Ah. "I'm doing fine, I guess. Limits are okay. I might ask for your help later on, though, especially when we get to the harder stuff."

"Fair enough," Kyle says with a laugh, and that subject's dropped. "So what are you doing tonight?"

"Dunno, I don't think I'm doing anything. I'm hanging around Wendy's house tomorrow. Anything with you?"

Kyle shakes his head. "Nah, not really…." A pause. "You wanna do something?"

We both laugh. "Sure… I guess…. Like what?"

"I dunno, just anything. Come over to mine."

"Fine, it's a deal." We both nod in agreement before Kyle turns back to Wendy and Kenny, now joining their quieter argument. I don't really pay attention to them, though. I'm too busy looking at the person three seats in front of me, who I've only just noticed is looking back at me….

Craig.

The bell happens to ring at this time. Immediately everyone around me gets up; Wendy's voice sounds like it's become farther away from me, and I can hear Kyle collecting his things. Yet I'm still seated, still staring, and still being stared at….

"Stan," Kyle says, tapping my desk, "bell rang, let's go."

"…right…." I look over at Craig again.

He's gone.

-

Upon driving everyone home it occurred to me somewhat that hanging out with Kyle might also imply hanging out with Kenny. After all, even though he leaves every few days, he unofficially lives at my house, now. Not to mention, after today, I'm sure Kenny would want to spend more time with Kyle to ultimately get him to prove his claim of being three-quarters of a foot long. But somehow this happened to be one of the days Kenny wouldn't be staying at my house, and so I could freely leave for Kyle's without having to feel bad about leaving Kenny behind.

I knock once on the front door, two hours later, and I'm not sure what to think at first when there's no response. Frowning, I try again, and get the same response. I'd only assumed the time we'd be hanging out at his place, we never really set one when we were in class today…. Maybe I was too early?

"Yo Stan!"

I recognize that voice almost immediately.

I don't turn around, merely standing in place in front of car's door. I can hear his footsteps coming closer, every footstep growing increasingly louder each time. And then…. "I called your name, fucker, why aren't you turning around?"

I roll my eyes, turning around slowly just for his sake. "I don't know, _Craig_…. I thought you hated me?"

"I do," he says with a smirk. "Well, I did. I dunno if I still do. I figure we have something in common, though, so I'd try befriending you. For common ground, you know?"

I shoot a glance once back at Kyle's front door, seeing if maybe he'd answered yet. But, no luck. "What common ground?"

Craig raises his eyebrows. "You still haven't figured that out yet?"

"You never really introduced the idea until just now," I remind him. "And, no offense, I never really looked much at you in the past."

"Pity, except I don't care. But maybe your boyfriend might. I'm sure he'd be please to hear that."

"Kyle's not my boyfriend!" I exclaim, taking a step back.

Craig only raises his eyebrows again. "But you're his, right?"

"The fuck? I don't even know what the difference is!"

Craig only laughs, shrugging his shoulders. "I dunno the difference either, really." I take another glance at the door, and still no Kyle. I wonder why he isn't answering the door…. Maybe he's not home yet. Or maybe no one could hear me knocking on the door. Either way, I decide rather quickly that as soon as I can shake Craig off I should go throw rocks at Kyle's window.

…for a split second I wonder how big Craig is compared to the rest of us. But that train of thought hardly lasts long, and I mentally slap myself in the face for even thinking about that. Stupid Kenny….

"Tell me when you figure out what we have in common," Craig says with a faint sound of finality in his tone. "I'm sure you'll figure it out if you paid more attention to the similarities in our school lives. And maybe you'll find yourself coming to me for advice once you figure it all out."

…except, I don't think I really would. I'm sure I could talk to Kyle or Wendy about everything. But for his sake, I assure him that I'll get back to him.

And then he just leaves. With a one-finger salute, of course, but still… he just walks off without a goodbye.

And then just as he's gone, Kyle finally decides to open his door. Great timing. It's almost as if Kyle did that on purpose… except I'm pretty sure that wasn't planned at all.

"You could've at least rung the doorbell," Kyle says, stepping inside to make room for me through the doorway. "No one's asleep, Stan, you don't worry have to worry about ringing the doorbell."

"Yeah, sorry," I apologize, though I know that's definitely not the reason why I didn't ring the doorbell. Actually… I don't even know why I didn't use the bell. Maybe I'm so used to knocking, especially since I tend to come to Kyle's house at random hours of the night when I can't sleep… or at least, I used to. "I knocked on the door, at least…."

"Well, no one heard you then."

"Then how did you… erm, how'd you know I was here?"

"Ike," Kyle says shortly, and I nod. Go figure. "He saw you from his bedroom window. I don't know why he looked outside to begin with." To this I shrug, and after several moments Kyle asks me why I'm still outside. And so I step inside for his sake. Inside his mom's at the kitchen cooking something, while his dad's reading the paper at the table. I say my good-evening's to the both of them before trudging up the stairs with Kyle.

"Way to be a suck up," Kyle says to himself, and I laugh quietly. "They already think you're the nicest boy around."

"That's a good thing though, isn't it? Besides, aren't I the nicest boy around? That's why I'm your Super Best Friend, isn't it? Besides, I thought you love me for who I am, and not for how I seem to be to your parents?"

"I do," he replies rather pathetically, shaking his head. "It's just… never mind." And with that he quickly walks away to his room.

…what?

"Was it something I said?" I ask, jogging slightly to catch up with him. "If it was, I'm sorry…."

"Don't worry about it," I hear him reply from his bed.

Frowning slightly, I go over to him and sit at the side of his bed. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine…. Actually, I wanted to ask _you_ something," Kyle says seriously, and I look to his direction. Somehow I'm expecting this to be about… well…. "Ike told me you were talking to Craig outside our house."

…oh. Never mind.

"Yeah, while I was waiting for you to get the door, he randomly showed up there."

Kyle nods. "Ah, I see. Actually I was wondering… er, what were you talking to him about?"

I chuckle nervously; I wonder why Kyle wants to know…? I'm not even sure if even _I_ know, really. Sure, he talked about wanting to be my friend because of some common ground, but… _what_ common ground? And what was this thing he kept talking about, this thing I was doing a good job on…?

"To be honest," I begin, heaving a sigh, "I'm not really sure what he's talking to me about. He keeps talking to me in riddles."

"Ah," is all Kyle says after that. "I was gonna say, you two didn't really talk much. I guess I was just worried he was giving you trouble or something."

I smirk at my friend. "Thanks," I tell him, "I appreciate your concern. Though it's not like you could've done much even if that's really what his goal was."

"Hey!" he whines, laughing, and I end up laughing too. But I suppose that is somewhat true, though. I see Kyle more as a lover than a fighter.

"But anyway," Kyle continues, "that's really all I was curious about. Ignore me otherwise."

"Don't worry about it," I assure him, and he nods. There ends that…. "Rematch on Okama Gamesphere?"

"Sure." So for the next two hours Kyle and I challenge each other at videogames. Still, even at this point, Kyle still creams me, and I find myself challenging him to a rematch yet again. Several times I think I come close to actually winning, yet he somehow manages to pull it off in the end. Damned bastard, he owns the console…. I'm sure if I still had my Okama Gamesphere I'd own him.

But eventually even seeking victory over Kyle gets boring, and eventually we stop. Kyle claims it's because I declare beating him a lost cause, but of course I know otherwise. Yet there's still several things bothering me, and I still can't seem to get my mind off of them….

…_eight inches…_ was I really supposed to know that, being his Super Best Friend? Or was Kenny just…?  
Why do I even _care_, really?—and yet, somehow, I still can't shake that off….

"Kyle," I begin rather seriously once we've stopped playing. "Do you think… well, are Craig and I similar?" Kyle looks at me oddly at first, but after a small moment he nods and begins to think about the question. I'm glad he doesn't ask further. He probably already knows this has something to do with me talking to Craig beforehand….

"You both play sports?" Kyle offers, giving a shrug. "And you both used to be mixed up by your teachers in middle school."

"Ah, true…." But even though that's true, it's not what I need. There's still something that Kyle hasn't mentioned, I haven't thought of, and Craig already knows about…. But as for what could it be? "You can't think of anything else?"

Kyle shakes his head. "Sorry, Stan…. I don't really know Craig too well. Maybe you should try asking Clyde?"

"Clyde?" I echo, frowning.

"Yeah, Clyde…. I dunno. He used to hang out with him back in elementary school. I'm sure they're still friends. Maybe you could ask Token, I dunno. Find someone who actually knows Craig's personality as a friend. I'm sure you could figure out something after that."

"Yeah, I guess…." Clyde…. I think he's the brown headed one, maybe…? I barely remember him. And I don't even know his last name, anymore. "Thanks for the help, Kyle. I owe you one, I guess."

"Nah you don't," Kyle replies, waving his hand. "I'm sure it's hardly anything important, anyway. If it were something like writing a college application, then _maybe_ you'd owe me. But otherwise… don't worry about it."

"Fine with me," I say with a laugh, and as I get off his bed I extend an arm. "Wanna get something to eat?"

"Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Marsh?" Kyle asks in an airy voice, and if it weren't for his tone I wouldn't have known he was joking. He takes my hand and pulls himself off his bed. "You… _do_ know I was kidding, right?"

"Yeah, I know," I reply, laughing. "The date part, I'm assuming. Since I already know you're gay for me and would probably bone me if I suggested it."

Kyle bites his lip, and just when I think I may've gone too far he gives a hearty laugh. "Yeah, with all eight inches, too." And with that, as we walk out of the house, I'm left with the sickening curiosity of _what_ exactly eight inches would feel like inside… of… well you get where I'm going. And I vow never to joke about Kyle's sexuality again, even if he _is_ the one that started it.

But eight inches… god, that'd be painful… ouch.

Kyle merely laughs at my misery. Bastard.

* * *

_Posted: June 17th, 2008._

_Just a friendly reminder: Please review. Give me something to look forward to when I check my email. Reviews help me push through the laziness of not wanting to write. _


	21. Hesitation

_Hesitation_

_Never give up on something that you can't go a day without thinking about._

And again.

_Never give up on something that you can't go a day without thinking about._

…damnit.

I heave a rather loud sigh, grumbling as I try to glare at the paper in front of me once more, in yet another attempt at rereading the essay prompt. It's a topic I'm already used to seeing, of course, especially since last year. The format's always the same; there's a quote (most of the time from some famous person), then the typical "Do you agree or disagree with this statement? Create a well-organized essay in which you support your standpoint, and be sure to develop a strong thesis, blah, blah."

One would typically think that if it's always the same format then there's no problem in writing it. After all, practice makes perfect, right?

No.

It's actually rather annoying. So annoying I can't even write those kinds of essays anymore. Take summer reading assignments, for example. I'm so bad at them now that I need Kyle to help me… and I've gotten them every summer throughout high school.

Basically, I'm screwed. But then again, how much does this essay actually count for? After all, it is only a diagnostic essay-writing assignment. Timed writing, perhaps. But I'm pretty sure those are never usually for a grade anyway. So… will it matter if I write this?

But even if I did write this essay, what would I write it on? As always with these essays, it always asks me to "provide specific examples from person experiences and literature, blah, blah," and if the actual writing of the essay isn't enough to get at me then providing the real-life examples definitely do. And of course, I could always make up stories for this stupid essay, but thinking up of a good faux example might take longer than actually having one and using it….

So then… what to write about… or maybe _who_ to write about?

Could I write about Kyle? I stop to think about it. I suppose, in a way, I could. I mean, in the past, even recently, we've always had feuds between us. Sometimes we'd fight about it and then make up afterwards. Other times we'd simply ignore each other until the matter had cooled down. But still, either way, there was always something that brought us back together. And maybe this quote… maybe it was because we thought about each other way too much to give up on each other….

But then, couldn't that be said about Wendy, too? We'd broken up at least… well, I don't even remember the number anymore…. But we'd split an incredible number of times, yet we keep coming back to each other. That follows the same theory, doesn't it? Or even in Kenny's case… I'm sure my involvement with his feud with his father could be twisted to make a good example. But at least I know Cartman would be the prime counterexample in all of this….

So then it's set. Now I just need to write an introduction and then I'm good to go.

…except, with just my luck, the bell decides to ring at this moment.

"Papers in!" Mr. I-think-you've-told-me-your-name-before-but-I've-forgotten-it-again yells above the crowds, though most people are too busy gathering their stuff to leave instead. "Put them on my desk, please! You all have a good—!"

"Sir?" I ask, approaching him with caution, holding my rather blank lined sheet in front of me. "Are we going to have extra time to work on this tomorrow…?"

The man gives a chuckle. "Why Mr. Marsh, you _really_ need all that time to create your masterpiece? You know, on the AP exam, you aren't going to be given too much time to write such eloquent essays!"

"I know sir, but…." I hang my head in shame. "I think I spent too much time planning it out…."

"Is that so…?" My teacher scratches his chin. "Well let me see how far you've—"

I'm sure if a teacher could hit his student, he'd probably have done it.

"Mr. Marsh, explain this to me, please! This is hardly acceptable for a twelfth-grader! You had a whole class period to…!"—except I'm not really listening. I'm more distracted by other things, like when I'd actually be able to eat my lunch. Or if I'll be allowed to walk outside this classroom alive.

Eventually though, he does let me go. He hadn't planned on giving anyone extra time, even before seeing my rather pathetic productivity. And of course, even after seeing my pathetic ability in an AP English class, he still wasn't giving me any extra time. But he assured me with the fact that it wouldn't count for a grade and that he only wanted to see how good our writing skills were so far. And though he was angry that now he'd have no idea how I wrote until it actually counted for a grade, he was seemingly fine with that.

I was so concerned with heading to the cafeteria to eat lunch that I hardly even noticed the boy who had oh-so-patiently waited for me in the classroom. And it was only after a few steps in the hallway when I actually recognized his presence.

"Hey… Craig."

"Yo," is all he replies with, giving a small hand-wave. "Figured it out, yet?"

"Figured out…?" It takes me a small moment to remember what he's talking about. "Nah, not really. Too busy thinking about how to write an essay."

"You know what you should try to do," Craig beings, folding his arms behind his head; "think as you write. Introductions are usually BS-able, and oftentimes you can merely reword the prompt. So while you're writing the introduction, you can think about how to write the next paragraphs. It won't flow as nicely, but you'll still get the points for the basics, you know?" After this he smiles, which somewhat scares me. He's being… nice to me? And he still hasn't called me a fucker.

"Thanks," I reply, "I'll try to remember that. You're being awfully nice to me, though…."

He chuckles. "Oh, so you noticed? I guess I'm just having a good day, maybe." He smiles again; I almost want to say he's sucking up to me at this point. But for what purpose…? If anything, there's something he has that I want… supposedly. I can't seem to think of any reason for him to suck up to me… unless… maybe he's encouraging me to figure out that thing we have in common?

…either way, the conclusion's the same: This clearly isn't the Craig I'm used to being around.

"Come sit with me at lunch," Craig suggests all of a sudden, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "It'll be fun, I'm sure. You'll be able to talk to some people I'm sure you haven't really associated with since elementary school." I shrug, keeping to myself that those people are probably people I never wanted to associate myself with at all, back in my younger years. Still….

_Maybe you should try asking Clyde?_

"Sure," I tell him politely. "I guess it's nice to have a change everyone once in a while anyway… but just this once!"

He smirks. "Doesn't matter to me… whatever floats your boat, Stan."

"Cool…. Well, I'll go tell Wendy then… so she doesn't get mad at me."

"She still has you on a leash, I take it?" asks Craig, a devious grin in his expression. "Don't take too long, then."

And he flicks me off as he walks away. I think… I think that qualifies as calling me a fucker…. So much for that, then.

For a moment I just watch him leave. But for once, my idleness isn't because I've zoned off. I think people are staring at me, but I'm not really caring too much. My eyes simply follow Craig's form through the cafeteria as he snakes through tables, squeezes through people, until at last he takes a seat somewhere on the far end of the building.

Now I know where he's sitting. And sure, I suppose I could've asked or followed him, but I hardly care.

"Having an eye for someone other than Wendy, I see?" a sudden voice whispers in my ear, and I nearly jump to find Kenny behind me, smirking with even more of an evil expression than Craig's face had just been moments before. "Or wait—was it Kyle you were seeing…? I can hardly remember nowadays."

"Shut up Ken, you know Wendy's my girlfriend."

At this, for some reason, his expression suddenly falls. "Yeah… don't remind me." Then, moments later, he lightens up once more and begins to pull me by my arm through the tables. "Come, I'm sure they're waiting for us!"

"Ken, hold on—!" but he doesn't listen and drags me to our usual table anyway. For some reason Kyle isn't at the table, but Wendy and Cartman are already there waiting. Cartman's wearing this blank expression on his face, an expression I can hardly read… not that I'd really want to. And as for Wendy… well….

"About time!" Wendy exclaims, leaning forward as I give her a kiss on her cheek. "Just where the hell have you guys been? It's already fifteen minutes into lunch and no one's been here!"

"Aye! I've been here accompanying you the entire—!"

"Sorry, Wends, I was talking to the English teacher about my essay… met up with Ken along the way." Cartman gives me a pout, but I merely ignore him.

To this Wendy merely nods, smiling. "Ah I see. Oh, are you talking about the diagnostic essay thing? How'd that go?"

I look at my sneakers. "Er…."

"So where's Kyle, then?" Wendy asks quickly afterwards, getting my point. "He wasn't with you all?"

"I thought you guys had the exact same schedule!" Kenny and I ask almost in unison.

Wendy shakes her head. "Nah, not this period. Kyle and I have six classes together. But I have Latin fourth period, while he's busy taking French. So though in other situations I'd know where he is…."

"Ah, I see…."

Silence. Kenny takes a seat at the table, immediately striking conversation with Wendy. Cartman tries inputting his share, but most of the time Wendy and Kenny ignore him. Yet still… I need to tell Wendy… that I'm not sitting….

"Stan, stay awhile!" Wendy says with a laugh, pulling out a chair. "Why are you still standing? You're making me feel short!"

"Wends, er…. I'm gonna sit somewhere else for today." Rather blunt, sure, but perhaps the most efficient way. Wendy questions me for a bit, and I tell her honestly. Thankfully, she doesn't question much about it, and she smiles before giving me a rather pleasant sendoff. But Kenny, on the other hand…. Well, let's just say Kenny was awfully curious about what business I had with Craig.

…and of course, curiosity killed the cat. Or, in this case, the cat killed Kenny….

"Where'd the cat come from?" Craig asks himself quietly, and I give him a shrug. "You're not… concerned at all?"

I shrug again. "Nah, not really. He used to die a lot when he was younger, if you remember. Though he hasn't died as much, I'm sure it's no big deal." Craig looks at me like I characterize the worst friend in existence. And his head I'm sure he's thinking something like "Maybe we're not so much alike after all" or something, but I'll never really know. But he's definitely shocked, at the very least.

Craig clears his throat. "Anyways, Stan, I'm sure you remember all of these people… Jean being the only exception here." At this he gestures toward a red-headed girl to his left. Indeed, I can't place a finger on her at all; she has brown eyes, a narrow face, and decently applied makeup on her face. She's also wearing a rather odd green turtleneck, which is somewhat surprising since September's hardly started….

"I'm Stan," I say with a friendly tone, extending my hand. "But I think you've already established that."

"Yes," she replies, smiling. Today… seems to be a rather cheery day. "I'm Jean, but you also already knew that."

"She's my girlfriend," Craig adds in her favor, and I silently nod to myself. Perhaps… another similarity? "She moved from Salem recently… you know, that one city in Oregon."

"I know," I reply, and he merely shrugs.

"Anyway, you know everyone else here. You know Token, Thomas, Clyde, Tweek…."

_Clyde_….

For the remainder of the lunch period I merely listen to all of them talk. Oddly enough, once Craig had finished with the introductions, he seemed to not talk as much. He seemed to listen more to the conversation, inputting with his occasional yet rather harsh insults when he could. It seemed Token and Clyde had been talking the most, though Tweek was by far the loudest. He hadn't given up his outbursts, it seemed….

It was a far-off similarity between me and Craig, but definitely not the one I was supposed to be looking for. It was still somewhat ironic, that I was looking for similarities between a childhood enemy and myself, yet there was some fun in it. It was bad enough that a lot of teachers mixed us up still, especially since we tended to have the same haircut and the same kinds of clothing. Looking for this… _aspect_… was basically asking us to be similar in just one more way.

But Craig already knew about this similarity, whatever it was…. Part of me wonders how he realized it, or _why_ he realized it. I'm sure he hadn't been observing me too much lately, or else I would've noticed it. But then again… it would seem that I hardly notice things, especially when it comes with friends who're close to me…. But furthermore, not only why did he notice this particular common ground, but why does it mean so much to him as to want me to find it out, too…?

And of course, in the end, I really don't pick up anything important from eating lunch with Craig. Most of his friends are as rowdy as ever, and a lot of them contrast differently than my own friends. But then maybe that's why we weren't friends before, and maybe that's why we still aren't. But there's still room for people to change….

When the bell rings to signal the end of lunch, I resort to Plan B in Operation Find-out-Craig's-secret: Clyde.

"Yo Clyde!" I greet him, throwing my arm around his shoulders. In the back of my mind Craig's bells are ringing at me, as he had done the same thing to me about an hour before. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

He looks somewhat annoyed, I think. "What do you want?"

I shrug. "Oh I dunno, just greeting an old friend."

Shit… I really _do_ sound like Craig when I'm trying to get something out of someone… but maybe everyone sounds like this?

"Listen Stan, I still really don't like you too much as a person." Cold…. "But for some reason Craig's taken a liking of you, so I'm only tolerating you when I can."

"Fair enough," I reply, shrugging my shoulders. "I was actually just curious if you knew as to why Craig's taken that liking of me…."

He shakes his head. "Sorry. Ask Tweek, he'd know."

…Tweek?

To this I laugh. "Tweek? Is Tweek close to Craig at all?"

"Oh yeah," Clyde replies, nodding. "I guess an outsider to Craig like you wouldn't know, really. But Craig and Tweek are actually really close friends… even if it doesn't look like it. Y'I dunno, I could hardly believe it myself the first time I heard, so don't worry about it."

"Tweek, huh…?" Clyde gives me an appraising look before walking off to his next class—and seeing him do that reminds me I have somewhere to go to. And though on my way to the next class I keep thinking about the failure of this whole impromptu-eating-lunch-with-Craig ordeal, I at least have a new lead….

But that's definitely enough Craig for one day, I think. I'll talk to Tweek another time.

-

At seven-thirty, almost on the dot, I ring Wendy's doorbell. As expected, she doesn't immediately answer, and so I merely wait outside. Tonight I had promised Wendy we'd hang out for a while; of course, I'd wanted to do something special at first, like take her out to dinner… but then I realized I was too broke for that. But Wendy insisted she'd rather just not go anywhere this time around, since spending time together this way was also good enough.

And so, that's how I ended up at her doorstep, though quite late in the nighttime. And that's also why I'm actually at her doorstep with the intent of going inside, and also why I'm not as formally dressed as I usually am. Though I guess I'm not exactly wearing shorts with a t-shirt… casually dressy, I suppose.

After about a minute of waiting, Wendy finally opens the door. "Right on time!" she exclaims as she opens it, greeting me with a warm hug; "Hurry up, come inside! My parents are waiting for you!"

I smile. "Okay." After stepping inside and taking off my shoes, I greet her parents warmly, asking politely about how Wendy's grandmother's doing; and then when I'm done with formalities I join Wendy on the couch. Right now the cooking channel is on, per her mother's request, but I don't complain and sneak an arm around Wendy and merely watch the television.

"Remember the time when my parents would be angry at you for doing that?" Wendy asks me with a whisper, and I nod with a grin. How could I remember the first time I'd visited her home…? I was constantly being watched, I was snapped at whenever I so much as even touched her….

"Will you be staying for dinner?" Mrs. Testaburger asks me, to which I nod. "Anything you want in particular?"

"Anything's fine," I reply politely, and she smiles before returning to the kitchen. I turn to Wendy. "So I'm hoping that toilet's still fixed properly, right?"

She gives a laugh. "Actually it did break again once, but my parents had a profession fix it this time around. I would say that my parents weren't happy with the job you did, but they don't know it was broken previously…."

"Of course not," I say with a smile, and I lean forward to kiss her forehead lightly. Oddly enough, it's been a while since I last hung around Wendy's place. Sure, I've picked her up for many reasons such as school or taking her to dinner. But for some reason I haven't really set foot inside her house recently. Not that I can really explain that behavior, though… maybe it's just the circumstances.

We talked a lot after that. Her mom finally gave up trying to cook the foods on the television, so she switched the channel to some movie I hardly recognized. Sometime during that movie we also ate baked salmon for dinner. It was actually rather tasty, though Wendy kept thinking I was saying it just to please her mom. And of course, her mom was pleased, and her parents left us alone for the rest of the evening. Not that anything happened after that, since Wendy grew rather attached to the movie and wanted to see its end.

It was only once the credits ended when she finally spoke. "Stan…?"

"Yeah?"

"Uh… nothing, never mind."

…to say merely that.

"You sure?" I ask her, just to make sure. Somehow this situation seems familiar….

"Yeah, don't worry about it," she says, giggling nervously. "I was gonna ask something, but I think it'll answer itself in time…."

Yeah… definitely… reminds me… of Kyle. Except that alone confuses me; what could she possibly be hiding? At least with Kyle I knew somewhat as to why he kept changing his mind when trying to say something. But Wendy… unless…?

"You aren't breaking up with me again, are you?"

Her punch to my side thereafter is quite painful….

"No, of course not!" she exclaims, shaking her head in disbelief. "Is that all you're really worried about, Stan? Seriously…."

"Sorry," I mutter in apology. "But I mean, I can't think of anything else you'd want to say…. Last time you told me that you found yourself another Token… I think." Wendy only sighs, and she leans herself toward me, tilting her head back to look up at my face.

"Stan, don't worry about that, okay? This time around… I don't think I'll be the one leaving you." And that's all she says. I lean forward to kiss her once again, and this time it lasts a little longer than the other ones. Probably for insurance or assurance, yet I don't complain either way….

And eventually it becomes time for me to go, since time does tend to pass when you're having fun. And of course Wendy makes the goodbye kiss even better than the rest of them. Thankfully Kenny wasn't there to see it. But still, even after that, on the drive back to my house, the only thing I can really think of….

_I don't think I'll be the one leaving you…_.

Did that imply… I would be leaving her? Was that what she meant?

I heave a sigh, entering my house and quickly find my way to my room. The house is asleep, with the exception of my unofficial roommate, and I suppose I'm glad for that fact. I'm not sure I want my parents bugging me right now, especially with all this to think about….

"Hey Stan, what's up?" Kenny of course, sitting on my bed. But I think he takes the cue when I don't answer him and fall onto the empty space next to him. "Tired?"

"Yeah," I mutter in reply. "Shit to think about…."

"Care to share?" he asks, with perhaps a little ring behind his suggestion. And of course, since Kenny does seem to be my life-vent when I need one, I do tell him. I even tell him more about Craig than what I'd told Kyle, that there's apparently some similarity between me and Craig, that he wants me to find that common ground so we could both relate, how I'm supposedly doing a better job at something than he is…. And then I start ranting about how the diagnostic essay test went, how I spent the entire time thinking about my life and what to write about instead of actually writing. And that just went back to the issue with Craig….

But when I got to Wendy…. When I told him about how Wendy hesitated to tell me something, when I told him there was something she might be hiding from me…. When I told him what she had said to me…. The only thing Kenny could say….

"Oh."

"Oh?" I echo, somewhat confused. Partially because I'd expected Kenny to say something profound about my situation like he always does, partly because I thought he'd at least say something more enlightening after I'd explained to him all my troubles. "Oh?—what does that mean?"

Kenny shrugs solemnly. "Oh? Just what it is, I guess…."

I shake my head slightly. "Ha… great…! Now there're _three_ people who're hesitant to tell me certain things. Exactly what I need…."

"Ah, no…!" Kenny bites his lip, looking away. "That's not what I wanted to happen at all…!"

"Then tell me what's up," I tell him quietly, looking him in the eyes. "For me? I don't need someone else scared to trust me…."

Kenny tries to match my gaze into his eyes, but he turns away afterward. "I don't want us fighting this late at night, Stan…."

"Is it about your dad?" I ask, scratching my chin. "I'll try not to make you angry if it—"

"Not my dad," Kenny interjects coldly, gaze still averted. "Wendy."

"Wendy?" I echo, tilting my head. "What about her…?" …except, I think I might already know the answer to that. Yet I choose not to acknowledge it as truth until I hear it from him….

Kenny turns to look at me once. His face suddenly turns red, and he turns away again. His lips are pursed now, his eyes narrowing…. Somehow, with context clues, I already know I'm right.

"I… like Wendy."

I give a nervous laugh. "R-really? That's good, Ken. I-I mean, I won't have to force you to get along with her like I did with Ky—"

"No, Stan," Kenny repeats, a little more firm in his voice.

I bite my lip.

"I… _like_… Wendy."

* * *

_Posted: June 22nd, 2008._

_Like I said before... please review? Since you now know it actually DOES motivate me to write faster... Oh, and I'm already like 200 words or so into the next chapter, so I assure you I'm already on the ball with that. I want to update before July 13th, or otherwise known as when I leave for Sacramento!  
_

_Though, I suppose you'd also review if you knew that each review prevents Satan from taking over the world... again. :)_

_-Zak_


	22. Revelations

**EDIT: **I went ahead and added the rest of the chapter to this one. I know, it sucks for those of you have already reviewed. I'll gladly take your reviews again, though; just review anonymously and it should go through. I'd REALLY like your opinions, so I'd appreciate your reviews.

For those reading the second time through, I'd pick up from the beginning of the scene with Kyle. Otherwise, just start from the beginning.

And remember to check out my new story, **You've Got Mail**!

* * *

_Revelations_

Sometimes there are things you can easily place your finger on. Say for example… well actually, I'm not really sure. Like how you could probably recognize in an instant if your mother was frustrated with you for having not yet cleaned your room. Emotions like that, I guess, are rather simple to recognize, and they're easily treated too. All it took was an hour out of your life to tidy your room, and your mother would be sated once more.

Some things aren't so simple though, unfortunately. One of those things was trying to figure out exactly what I was supposed to be feeling towards Kenny at this moment. It didn't help that his outburst, maybe confession, was rather untimely on his part, as he had decided to tell me this right in the middle of my worries. Trying to think about Wendy's words, then Kenny's, then simply trying to make something out of nothing….

Was I angry?—no, or at least I didn't think so. But maybe it would've been easier if I had been. Trying to figure out what to feel towards him… at least, if I had been angry, I could figure out a way to react around him. I could just yell out my lungs at him, and that'd be that. But no, instead… it had to be like this, awkward, playing the chasing-each-others'-gazes game… along those lines.

It so happens that, at this very moment, I can feel Kenny's gaze burning in my direction. And, of course, I'm instead looking towards the ceiling above us.

"You _like_ Wendy," I repeat, pondering the words carefully. "You _like_ Wendy…. 'Like' like…."

"Like, I-have-the-hots kind of like." Kenny sighs, mumbling stuff under his breath. "I didn't really want to tell you this way, Stan."

"Meaning you'd rather have wanted to bang her behind my back?" He recoils slightly from the bitter tone in my voice. I'm not really sure where it's coming from, either. I'm not incredibly furious with Kenny—after all, he's Kenny, and he liked pretty much anything he could set his eyes on. And, maybe, in a really sick way, being attractive in Kenny's eyes was a compliment. But me being her boyfriend… maybe it was just a natural instinct on my part.

"Not at all," he says, raising his hands up in defense. "I mean… yeah, I did want to tell you, but not like this, you know…? I would've preferred this to be a more… serious discussion."

"This isn't serious enough?" I challenge, trying to sound less angry with him. Though, looking at his facial expression, I think I'm still failing slightly.

"It is I guess. I… don't really know." He breaks his gaze with me to collapse into the bed next to me. Now the both of us are just staring at the popcorn ceiling above us. To be frank, this actually reminds me of spending time with Kyle, now. Suddenly, with one small thing, I've found myself in a predicament with Kenny, just as I had with Kyle, and we're trying to talk it out somehow.

"I wouldn't want it to have been this way," Kenny says at last. "I'm sorry. I don't really want to take her away from you, Stan."

"But you like her," I remind him. "Naturally, you'll want to be able to spend time with her eventually."

"But that's the thing," Kenny says rather suddenly; "the day I wanted to tell you… I'd be asking for your help. Not to ask her out or anything, but… to find a way to stop liking her." Hearing this really throws me off guard. I don't even understand it, at first. It's like… trying to deny a part of him, in a way. But then I realize the selflessness of the act, and it even gives me a warming feeling inside for a moment. And thereafter I… just don't have much to say.

"Why?"

"Unless you really want me to start going after your girl, dude…." Kenny gives a laugh, and I can't help but to laugh with him. It's not a loud, hearty laugh; in a way, it's more like a chuckle, as if two friends were reminiscing a time when they had gotten away with something huge. A resolved feeling, perhaps. "It isn't fair to you," Kenny says after a while, and I can feel him looking at me again. "I mean, how I feel shouldn't influence how you live your life, you know? But still, out of respect, it's something you deserve to know… you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I do."

Except… I really don't. And Kenny knows it, too.

"I don't really know how to explain it any better," Kenny says with a sigh of defeat. "I mean it's just that feeling when you don't want to disappoint someone important to you, you know?"

"I really do get it," I say again, though it's yet again another lie. In essence, I get where he's coming from. I may not truly understand exactly why he wants to do what he's doing, but I sort of understand. And for now, that's enough.

"Put it this way," he adds. "If I really liked Wendy and wanted to be with her, I would have told her directly, right? By telling you I've pretty much ruined my chances. And that's because I don't want that chance. I don't want you to feel like I'm betraying you or anything."

"I said I get it," I repeat again, and Kenny laughs.

"Just making sure, dude. But right now we should probably get some sleep." Kenny gives me a pat on my shoulder before turning his back on me. "It's getting late and we still have school tomorrow."

"But what about the help?" I interject. "You said you wanted help about…."

Kenny tries to shake his head. "I think you knowing my intention is enough. I promise I won't try taking Wendy from you… promise." With that I think Kenny really does sleep. I mouth a small "okay" at him, though I don't really think it quite matters. It's a promise he expects me to expect of him, after all.

As always, I don't sleep immediately. I can't help to think about the peculiarity of Kenny's wish. It's definitely an interesting approach. Sure, it makes sense, but it seems weird to think about…. It's almost a little too selfless. But maybe it might just be me, then.

For some odd reason, I don't really think much about the idea of Kenny liking Wendy. Initially I had, though not too seriously, and I suppose that was what had gotten me to an angry start. But upon reflection, I don't really have much to say about it. Maybe it really was because I knew Kenny had proper intentions with his feelings, and he didn't really want to hurt anyone from any party. At least, I'm seriously hoping so. But lately I've noticed, giving Kenny the benefit of the doubt has proven relatively well.

Still, as I continue to stare at the popcorn ceiling, I can't help but to keep thinking I've seen this motive before. Sure, it had been surprising when Kenny told me about it, and I had been taken aback that someone would think that deep into a matter that involved that person. But now, thinking about it, it's almost as if it were a reasonable intention, as if I know someone who really has thought like—

Oh.

Shit.

-

The next day turns out to be a rather exhausting day. It feels like the school week has dragged on literally forever, and I'm very much sick of it. One of the only exceptions, however, was my English class, in which I found much humor in receiving my diagnostic essay back. Or, more accurately, my blank sheet of paper. We spent the entire time sarcastically criticizing our fellow peers' writing styles, and we were supposed to take notes on all the elements we were neglecting or not doing. And of course, having not written an essay at all, I merely used my sad excuse of an essay to write my notes on.

After class had finished, I found myself talking to Craig yet again. This time, though, I was the one inviting myself to lunch with them.

"Sure," Craig had said almost without thought to it, and after that it was decided. I found myself yet again in their group, listening to their conversations for the second day in a row. Most of it hadn't changed, either. It was like I was living that day yet again, almost… kind of like that one movie.

But even though I'm only somewhat listening, I'm not really paying much heed to what they're saying. I'm still trying to figure out what to do with Tweek once this whole lunch thing ends. Would there be enough time to confront him after lunch?—and there was no way I'd drag him out of lunch right now, especially since that'd make it quite obvious for Craig to see.

And so, instead, I waited. And, believe it or not, the opportunity came right before my very eyes:

"I'm going to go to the restroom," he said in his shaky and trembling voice. He had attempted to rise up slowly but had ended up jumping out of his seat instead. And, moments after watching him stumble his way out of the cafeteria, I found myself rising up and following suit—I ignored the smirk Craig gave me on the way out.

So that's how I found myself following Tweek and replicating the actions of a stalker.

It actually makes me wonder on the inside, though. The smirk Craig had given me… had that been a sign that I was on the right track?—or had that been a mere acknowledgment of our efforts to find "common ground?" Either way, I'd find out soon if Tweek could really help me.

I confronted him after he finished business in the bathroom. "Tweek," I greet promptly as the door to the men's restroom opens, only to have him jump five inches into the air.

"Jesus Christ, Stan, don't scare me like that!"

"…sorry." I smile at the ever-clumsy behavior of Tweek, yet frown upon it soon afterwards. Would someone like this really be the person who has the answers to this mystery Craig's poised? "I didn't mean to scare you, dude. I just wanted your take on a few things, if that's okay."

"My _take_?" he asks, tilting his head in confusion. "Why would you want my take?"

"Just need some opinions," I say just as bluntly. "So are you in?" Tweek shifts from foot to foot, unsure of whether to take my… offer. But eventually, after glancing around as if he were being spied on, he nods quickly.

"Go," he says, and I begin to talk. I don't tell him too much, though. I mention stuff about Craig, how he's been talking to me a lot more lately and has even gone to the point of being friendlier. Then I tell him that Craig's said something about us being similar, and that I still haven't really figured out what exactly it is. And then, lastly, I go ahead and ask Tweek if he thinks he knows what that might be.

"Well… you both have dark hair… wear the same kind of clothes…."

…basically, stuff I've already deduced on my own. But this couldn't be what Craig was after, that wouldn't make any sense. I honestly doubt that Craig would send me on this wild goose hunt just for something as measly as this, would he…? Though, earlier on….

– _I thought you hated me?  
– I do._

But still, even so, it feels as if there really had been something he wanted me to find out, as if there really were something we had in common… or maybe that was just me trying to justify this odd friendship we'd developed so quickly. But in that desperation, while Tweek continues to ask me repeatedly if we were finished talking, I begin to think of anything, everything, or just _something_ that would lead me in the right direction….

– _Craig and Tweek are actually really close friends… even if it doesn't look like it._

Clyde.

"How good of friends are you with Craig?" I manage at last, cutting Tweek in midsentence. It effectively silences him, and he gives me a look I can't really quite understand. It's almost like a mix between confusion and sheer surprise, and he even becomes a little jittery afterwards. "I mean, if you don't want to answer…."

"We… were good friends," he says in the calmest voice he can muster.

"Were?"

Tweek nods. "When high school began we were definitely good friends. I'm not even sure why; he'd said that opposites attracted and that was that. But everyone else was always surprised by that, and I think they even went as far telling Craig himself that he shouldn't really be friends with me for that reason. He shook them off at first, but I could tell he was sort of affected by what people were saying.

"Then… I messed up everything. Not intentionally, but I couldn't help it. It was driving me insane, and it was something I just had to let out, you know?—I needed to tell someone so I wouldn't go mad."

"Understandable," I tell him with an assuring voice. "But… what did you end up telling Craig?" At this he begins shaking his head violently, twisting on spot, and it takes a good deal of effort on my part to calm him down. Clearly, then, there's something to this that's worth hearing, and all doubts of this being a useless conversation have gone down the drain.

When I properly manage to calm Tweek down, I ask him once more to explain. "Promise you won't tell anyone?" he clarifies, looking at me with dodgy glances.

"Who would I tell, anyway?" I say with a laugh, but this doesn't settle too well with him.

"JUST SAY YOU WON'T TELL ANYONE!"

I think I jump a few steps backward. "Okay, okay, sorry…. I won't tell anyone, I promise." Thankfully, this is enough for him, and so he leans against the wall behind him and heaves a sigh. "I… had this thing."

"Thing?"

He nods quietly. "For him."

"For…?—oh." And then it all hits me. That whole analogy with waves crashing hard against the shore—pretty much exactly what it feels like now. And now that the mystery's truth has been slapped right across my face, I'm not really sure how I hadn't seen it earlier. Ever since Clyde mentioned the idea of Tweek and Craig being close, I should've known what Craig was getting at.

Craig, like me, had some guy pining over him. And that's the common ground he was hinting at.

"You don't hate me now, do you?" Tweek asks cautiously, eyeing me with some sort of fear in his gaze. "Oh god, you hate me now, don't you?"

"Calm down, Tweek, why would I hate you?"

"Because… because… I'm…." His stuttering doesn't quite help him in portraying in what he says, and eventually his sentence merely dies incomplete. "Craig did."

"I wouldn't hate you," I assure him. "It's not like you're the only one out there. And besides, even if you were, it's more or less just a characteristic that makes up you…." Tweek nods weakly, turning away from me. I know he's not convinced, no matter what I'll tell him. But… something's not right.

"You sure Craig hated you for that reason?"

Tweek nods. "Yeah, positive. He pushed me away and told me to stay the… fudge… away from him." I nod sympathetically, staying silent. If Craig and I really were on common ground… why were Craig and Tweek in bad terms?—and why weren't Kyle and I at that same level?

…or had we already been? There had been that time of awkwardness between us, hadn't there?—maybe we were just ahead in that process, having had made up already… maybe.

"I don't think he hates you," I tell Tweek. I'm honestly trying to speak from experience, but I don't really remember much anymore. If Craig and I really are alike… maybe we'd react and feel the same way, too…. "He just doesn't really know how to take all of it. Confused, I guess. Just give him time."

"I hope so." After that we both return to the lunch table, where most of the people there have already finished eating. Clyde and Token are talking about some teacher of theirs, while Jean's immersed in conversation with Craig. Upon our return Craig looks up at me and smiles, but I don't return it. Not yet. Not while I still have questions.

It really isn't any much longer until lunch ends. They all split ways, Clyde going off one way as always, Token headed towards the gym. Craig gives Jean a farewell embrace before they too split directions.

I pursue Craig this time. I only have passing period to talk to him… but that's all I really need, I think.

"I figured it out," I exclaim, reaching for his shoulder so he knows to slow down.

"I know."

"But something's not right still," I continue. "Why aren't you friends with Tweek, anymore? Craig sighs, mumbling something under his breath. It's only after I get him to repeat himself a few times when he's actually audible.

"It's because I don't know how I'm supposed to feel," he says at last. "Remember the reason why I made you find this common ground to begin with?—because I told you that you were doing a better job at dealing than I was. You and Kyle are still all right, and you guys talk to each other like you're best friends, 

still. But… I don't know my stance on Tweek, and so I'm better off just not having to deal with him instead of sorting out my emotions. Now… I have to go to class. I'll see you around, Marsh."

Just like that, Craig enters his next class, which I hadn't even noticed we'd arrived. Incidentally it's also my class, but even so I choose not to continue with the conversation. Besides, as I sit down, I begin to realize I have more pressing issues to worry about. Like what to do about helping Kenny, now in more ways than one. Or like still trying to figure out what Wendy meant by what she said last night.

Or why Kyle is now glaring daggers in my direction.

-

Wendy thinks I'm going to break up with her. Kyle has an unexplained crush on me with pending status. Kenny has the hots for my girlfriend but doesn't actually want to pursue his urges (and let's not forget my intervention in his mysteriously silenced abuse problem). Craig's trying to seek my help to deal with friendship problems "similar to my own." And Tweek's relying on my assurance that everything between him and Craig will turn out fine.

…I have an interesting collection of friends, it seems.

Somehow I've ended up being tied to everyone around me. I'm not honestly sure how I managed to pull it off, and it's not too pleasant of a feeling knowing that everyone's got you on their mind. Still, now that I'm in, I'm sure I'll have to see all of these predicaments through… and seeing them work out well will be worth the effort, I'm sure.

But… if it goes wrong… even I don't want to see the ramifications.

It also happens, somehow, that within the last twenty-four hours I've learned a lot about people in general. I've had revelations on Kenny's internal character, and I've discovered a lot about a friendship I hadn't even known existed days ago. Not to mention having learned Wendy's 'prediction' of our break-up….

Really, all that's left is Kyle… though it's not like I haven't had my fair share of surprises with him. Still, he is the only one left who's breaking the pattern. And I'm very sure that might change soon. After all, the glare he'd given me in class….

It hadn't been a piercing glare. It wasn't one of those glares you gave people when you were furious with them. Rather… it was a disappointed glare, an I-need-to-talk-to-you-and-am-currently-not-in-best-terms-with-you glare. The foulness lasted throughout the entire class, to the point where he wouldn't even look at me very long without turning away. And again, not in the I-hate-you-so-much-I-can't-look-at-you manner, but rather with a sense of I'm-just-too-confused-to-want-to-make-eye-contact-with-you.

If that makes any sense at all.

The point was, lately something's been wrong with all my friends, and now that plague's hit Kyle. And whether I like the idea of having to confront Kyle with whatever problem he might have with me now, I know I'm going to have to eventually.

…and that's why I find myself at his doorstep that afternoon. And granted I could've done it while driving him home… but I had neither the courage nor the presence of mind to do it then.

For some reason, I almost expect it when Ike answers the door.

"Hey Stan," he says cheerfully, stepping aside to let me in. "Rockies' game on right now. Wanna watch?"

"That's all right," I say apologetically. But for some reason, my voice is shaky. "Hey, is your brother home?"

Ike nods. "Of course he is… why wouldn't he be? I'll go—" but Ike doesn't really need to finish the sentence, because Kyle's already at the top of the staircase. Contrarily to earlier today, his eyes seem more… tired. Less frustrated. And already that's not a good sign for me.

"Why are you here?" he says so simply, it almost holds rigidness and harshness in it alone. Even Ike, unaware of what's going on, takes the hint and begins to retreat up the stairs. "And while we're on it," he adds, turning to Ike as they meet; "take down that goddamned video. Don't make me remind you again."

"Yes sir!"

Ike retreats.

"I'll repeat myself," Kyle says, voice slightly increasing. "What the HELL are you doing here?"

"KIE-YOLE WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT YELLING IN THIS HOUSE?"

I almost smile when Mrs. Broflovski finishes, but that quickly fades when I find myself looking at Kyle again. I do really hope… this has nothing to do with… well. That thing we're always talking about with each other. Especially after Craig's whole deal… not a good time.

"Can we… go to your room?" Kyle's gone back to glaring his daggers at this point, but it's not quite as Stan-neglecting as last time. On the contrary, after some intensity, he nods and turns his back on me, returning to his room. With much hesitancy, and with many curious glances from Mrs. Broflovski from the kitchen, I proceed after him. Up the steps, skipping the creaking one….

"Good luck," Ike mouths silently from the creak of his door, though he quickly switches to a celebratory mood after an apparent home run. Inside I cheer too, but letting any of that out wouldn't set too well with Kyle I'd bet….

Closing the door to Kyle's room almost makes me feel like I'm in that abyss of my dreams once more. And seeing Kyle before me seals the deal.

"We… need to talk."

"I know." I can't stand the sound of his voice. It seems… strained. I don't know. I can't tell. "Who wants to go first?—you or me?"

"I actually have two things to bring up," I tell him promptly. "Since mine will take longer, I say you go first."

"Or we could alternate," Kyle says reasonably, shrugging his shoulders. "So you first."

"Fine." I take a deep breath. "What's up with the cruel looks earlier today?"

Kyle chuckles. "Pretty much what I was gonna say, dude. But I don't think my answer to that will really make sense unless I take my turn first."

"Ask, then."

"Okay." A pause. "Did I do something to upset you?"

"What?" Kyle laughs nervously, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. I sincerely do hope this isn't going where I think it's going…. "No, of course not, why?"

"Just wondering."

I raise an eyebrow to this. "Yeah right, Kyle, I know there's a reason to this. Tell me."

"Fine." He bites his lip. I'm sure he would've given me an evil glare again if we weren't in this neutral mood. "You've been avoiding the lunch table recently, and you've been spending loads of time with Craig and Token. I… I dunno. I just thought something was up, you know?"

"Oh." That's it? Really? That… wasn't what I was expecting at all. "No, Kyle, not at all."

"So why are you hanging out with Craig all of a sudden?"—and then it hits me: he's jealous. As he would be, I guess… maybe. I don't know anymore.

"He's been needing advice," I reply, trying to be as blunt as possible. Hopefully Kyle wouldn't interrogate me further. Besides, not only was it really none of his business, it'd be quite awkward to explain a situation so closely related to his own… unless he already knew about it.

Did he?—I might never find out.

"Is that it?"

"Yeah." A silence follows after that. I move to sit on his bed while Kyle paces the room, looking at his feet the entire time. For some reason these awkward moments just keep popping up between us… and now I can honestly say we're both to blame for them.

After some time, I ask the second thing on my agenda. I decide not to ask Kyle again about his attitude, as I'm quite sure I've figured it out. He was jealous, of course. Not sure why exactly, though—it could be any reason, really. Maybe just a fear of having found a new friend, or because… of other reasons. Other reasons I'd have to speak about in roughly… well.

"The last thing I have to ask you," I begin, following Kyle's idea of staring hard at the floor. "Um… when you… you know…." I make some sort of hand gesture afterwards. I think it's supposed to resemble two people-hands coming closer together. Kyle doesn't get it of course, so I have to go out of my way to explain it again in a… better way, perhaps. "You know… when you… confessed… that…."

"I get it," he interjects, much to my relief. "When I told you about how I felt about you. It's not that hard to describe, dude."

"I know, but…." I laugh nervously as Kyle eyes me curiously. "But anyway, like I was saying… why'd you do it? I mean like… when you… you know… did you do it hoping you could… you know… _have_ me? Or did you… I don't know…."

"You aren't making any sense," Kyle tells me with a smirk. "Stop stuttering and think about what you want to say. Then ask me some other time. Though, based on what I _did_ hear…. I feel like I've answered that question before. But to be honest, I don't even remember. I've gotten over the drama behind that. I guess now, when I think about it, I never really wanted it to go down the way it did. I'd much have rather told you in a different way…."

_Exactly like Kenny…._

"That's… all I wanted to hear," I manage at last, and for some reason that causes surprise in Kyle's face. "Thanks, dude. I'll see you tomorrow at school!"

"Tomorrow's Saturday!" Kyle yells after me, but I don't turn back for him. I can hear him calling my name some more as I run through his door, down the stairs, out their door, along the sidewalks, past the houses, back to my house…. It's all blurred around me, I suddenly don't understand what's going on, what I'm feeling….

Is it pity? Compassion? Regret?

Fear?

"Dinner's ready," I find my mom's voice telling me all of a sudden, but I don't stop to acknowledge it. I find myself throwing my shoes off, climbing up the steps… bursting through my room….

…stopping in front of Kenny.

He gives me this appraising look as I practically kneel before him. Seeing his face… there's something I can't place, and it's just… all… so… confusing….

I don't understand….

"What the hell is _wrong_ with me?" I practically shriek at him, yet though I'm sure he's taken aback by my behavior he doesn't move an inch. "Ken! I can't… I don't…!"

"Calm down, Stan… tell me what's up."

"I… Kyle…." I shake my head. "Kyle's exactly like you!"

"What?"

I shut my eyes shut. "I asked him about it… remember when I told you about my problem with Kyle? About how he liked me?"—at least, I think I told Kenny that before. Whether I really did or not, though, Kenny doesn't bother to correct me. "He told me… he said… he wanted it differently… that he didn't… that he….

"Why can't I see these things? Why can't I think like you guys?—am I really that blunt, that coldhearted? I… I… what if things between us had turned out to be like Craig and Tweek?"—and it doesn't really occur to be that Kenny probably has no idea what really _did_ happen between Craig and Tweek… but I don't care, really. "Why am I… I….

"I'm so pathetic, Ken. And the worst thing is, I don't know what the hell's going on with me right now. I can't… think straight at all. Don't take that the wrong way, but… I don't know. Thinking about Craig, Tweek… I don't want that to happen to us, Ken! I don't want to lose Kyle!—and what if I had?—what if I had acted stupidly and had lost Kyle? Would I have been able to forgive myself for seeing with such broad and naïve sight? I don't think I could've, Ken…. I want Kyle to be by my side… I _need_ him…. I don't… I don't want to lose him.

"And now I can't stop thinking about it… I mean it's like every time I think of Craig and Tweek I think of Kyle. This whole time, coming back from Kyle's, during school… I don't know. We can't even meet eye contact anymore. I'm suddenly conscious about what I say to him because I'm so _scared_ to screw up. And… and… I can't even talk about that… thing… that time when he… when he… you know… told me about… stuff he was feeling. I couldn't do it, and I don't know why!—actually, I do. I'm scared I'll… I'll say something I don't want to say, that suddenly I'm going to wake up and have him hate me or something…. It's just… just…."

I stop.

It just feels too sudden, all of a sudden. Kenny's still looking at me, but somehow through his eyes I can tell he's thinking about what I just said. Even I don't know all of what I'd just said; I pretty much just let it all out. It's starting to seem clearer now, both my thoughts and my presence of mind, but still… it hurts….

I can't stop feeling pain. I can't stop thinking about Tweek's pained expression, his pained feelings of wanting Craig to talk to him. And I'm sure I probably made Kyle feel like that one way or another, at some point…. Then missing Kyle's motive altogether… how Kenny and Kyle could have the same motive, me being stupid enough to just miss it altogether, being so blunt-headed….

"Stan."

I blink. "Yeah?"

"Have you considered that… I don't know. Maybe you like him back?"

"That I… like…."

Oh.

"No, Ken, I'm straight!—I don't like Kyle. I have a girlfriend, remember? I love Wendy!"

"And you've broken up with her like, what, twenty-eight times?" Kenny smirks in my direction. "No. I'm not trying to say you're gay, nor am I trying to make something up just so I can have Wendy. But your feelings for someone, what determines how much you care for someone…. Gender doesn't always define that. You know? At least, I know it shouldn't. Care about the people that matter to you, Stan. Gender's only just a defining characteristic, when you look at it that way."

"Ken, I'm not…."

I can't say it anymore.

Why?

…WHY?

I… I….

"…need to think about this?" Kenny asks politely, stepping over me to the door. "I'll leave you alone for a while. At least consider the possibility, Stan."

And he's out, just like that.

I don't move for a while… for a very long while. I don't even know how long it is, myself. I don't even have much to think about, at first. My mind's… blank. Exhausted. Refusing to think or ponder anything else.

The room's too quiet.

…I like Kyle?

…no, I can't, I can't.

…but…? How else could I explain…?

I don't… understand life.

But it really had been sudden, hadn't it? Somehow, hearing that one thing, everything I'd heard today and last night…. They were almost like puzzle pieces beginning to form the puzzle, coming together to see the big picture. And now… apparently… according to Kenny… I've almost figured it out….

There's still a part missing though.

With as much effort as I can muster, I reach for my phone. I weakly dial Wendy's number, making sure it really _is_ Wendy this time. Somehow, I don't know what would happen if I had accidentally dialed Kyle again….

"Hey, Stan!"

"Wends…."

I think she gasps quietly on the other side. "Stan, you all right? You sound… weak? Tired? Did something happen?"

I frown. Should I.. .should I tell her?

…no.

…yes.

…no.

…yes.

…I don't know.

So I do it anyway. I definitely don't speak quite as fast or as much as I had done with Kenny. I barely mention anything, actually. Just enough for Wendy to understand my distress. But for her sake… I do mention Kenny's ideas of Kyle, how I might… no. It can't be right. It just….

"You said last night," I remind her, talking slowly. "This time… I might be the one to call this off…. Was this… had this been what you were referring to…?" There's a slight pause, presumably her trying to take in all the information. But… if the wait wasn't bad enough… her response….

"Yeah… Stan. It… it was."

* * *

_Posted: August 27th, 2008.  
Edit Posted: August 28, 2008._

**ISN'T IT CRAZY? THIS STORY HAS BEEN ALIVE FOR MORE THAN A YEAR, NOW!**

_I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while either. I explained it all up there in my pre-author notes, and there's also an addendum on my author page. Please understand! I'm doing the best I can!_

_With that, please review. I would honestly appreciate it. And check out my new hit story, __**You've Got Mail**__!_

_-Zak_


	23. Discovery

I'm attempting to update quickly… and failed.

* * *

_Discovery_

I had tried not to think about it too much then. I had tried to just pretend none of what had just happened… actually hadn't happened. But somewhere in my attempt I had failed, and consequently I'd spent the entire night awake.

The popcorn ceiling provided little solace.

It really was too hard to think about in its entirety. It was just too fast, too sudden…. If I was going to spend any time thinking about this it all, I'd probably want to do it much later when it'll all have settled in. why I actually have the mindset to try and sort it all. Though, of course, not long ago, I thought I did have it all sorted out… apparently not.

Even if I had tried to think about it that night, I wouldn't have been able to. Even now, the morning after, I can still hear everyone's voices echoing back at me. I could still hear Craig taunting about me and my better standing with my best friend; I could still hear Tweek, his exclamations of worry and paranoia; I could still hear Kenny and his wishes, his predictions, his explanations; and of course, Kyle, though what he was saying was merely a jumble of words.

What hurts the most is that even my girlfriend, Wendy, thinks I'm in… love… with my best friend.

She had been thinking about it for a while. I think she said it had been after the seventh break-up—I don't really remember. Whichever time it had been, regardless of when, it was after that particular time when she started believing that I… that I was… yeah.

She had said it so simply last night, too. Though I can hardly remember the exact phrasing she had used. But hearing it had been quite unexpectedly painful.

"It's always been Kyle before me, Stan."

And I guess if I hadn't believed anything Kenny had told me up to that point, that sentence was almost the sure guarantee. Upon thinking about it… it really had been. I couldn't really think of many examples of it at the time, but I definitely couldn't argue with what she said. Like that time I wanted to call Wendy but accidentally called Kyle. When thinking about both of them… for some reason Kyle just came first. Not to mention way back when, that day Wendy asked me to choose between me or Kyle… didn't help that I couldn't answer her.

Of course, it's not like that means I've accepted this whole… thing. I can't be gay. But then, Kenny had said it himself, hadn't he? Gender, in the end, shouldn't be a determinant in who we like. So… it could just be that… I'm gay for Kyle.

Or something similar to that.

There's only one doubt I have left, now. The only counterargument I have left now…. Why couldn't these feelings just be a result from a best friend—no, Super Best Friend—relationship? Friends had cared for each other, right?—these feelings couldn't just be a result of that?

I guess I had some leads onto the answer to that question, but none of it was really conclusive. What stands out the most, really, is what Wendy had managed to say last night as well. I don't remember anymore what I said, or even what she said exactly. But in essence, what she said had been something along the lines of: "You cared for a friend more than your own girlfriend."—which, when you think about it, doesn't mean too much alone. But when you think more about it….

What exactly is a best friend?—with or without the Super prefix, I just think it simply means a very close friend you can rely on the most. And with that definition, Kyle's definitely surpassed that. And I guess that's what makes us Super Best Friends, I guess. But… when thinking about it, it's not the typical, platonic, friendship at all. Kyle and I are too close. We have too many awkward moments because of it. Even before all of this confusion began, we touched each other much more than two average male friends should have touched.

It could, of course, be only an issue determined from one friendship to another. But the point was… there was still that gap of uncertainty. Even after a small night's worth of sleep… I still didn't fully understand what to think. Last night I'd even considered the idea that these emotions toward him might just be due to the influence from Craig and Tweek's predicament. I really… didn't know still.

However, there was one thing I knew I could do to help me decide. It wasn't the thing I most wanted to do; in fact, it'd be the absolute least thing I'd want. But I'm no coward… or at least I like to think so. And after all, there had been that one wise person, who'd said that _fear is often greater than the danger itself_. And, not to mention, _a man must face his fears before he can face himself_.

One day, maybe, I'll go back and thank my previous English teachers for providing me with such quotes for unexpected situations such as these. But as for right now, I have something to do.

I need to talk to Kyle.

And so, ignoring the fact that it's only seven in the morning, I pick up my cell phone and dial the number I'm so used to calling—it's one of four numbers I've memorized by heart, my own number included….

The dial tone seems to ring forever. It feels odd listening to it, though. It's almost as if it's teasing me. Every time the dial tone stops I almost feel as if it's this time around Kyle's picked up the phone… only to realize Kyle hasn't when I hear it ring once more. Then again… my hopes are raised… then I fail again.

"Come on, Kyle, pick up…." And of course, as is expected of my luck, he doesn't pick up.

_This is Kyle's voicemail. I'm not here. Leave a—_

I hang up.

I grumble nothing in particular as I shove the phone back in my pocket. Sparky whimpers from his corner as I make my way towards him, crouching before him. Really, Sparky might be the only one up at this time of day….

"Why the sad look?" I ask Sparky, frowning a little as I scratch the area behind his ear. And, knowing Sparky, he immediately cheers up at the notion. "See? That's better. I bet you just wanted me to notice you, huh?" But it's only when he sticks his tongue out at me that I realize what I've just said. And really… it is all about finding happiness, isn't it? People do things to make their lives more interesting, more enjoyable, more bearable…. People want to be noticed, to feel loved, to feel… happy.

…I don't like where my train of thought is going.

Thankfully, I end up leaving it at that, because before I can really think of anything else to say to myself, my phone rings. For some reason I feel surprised at this, but it doesn't take long for me to remember that I'd only called someone moments before. Somewhat relieved, yet now somewhat nervous, I pick up my phone.

"H…hello?"

"Stan…." It's definitely Kyle, all right. But he definitely sounds a lot weaker and quieter than he normally does. Then again, granted the time of day it is right now, it's probably just because he isn't even properly awake. "You call?"

"Y…yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up." Did Kyle really sound like that on the phone? I mean, I knew people sounded different, but… it's really….

"What'd you want?"

"Oh, I uh… I… IwaswonderingifyouwantedtogotoStark'sPondtoday." Kyle says nothing, and I'm pretty sure he'd be tilting his head at me right now if we were next to each other.

"…what? Sorry, I'm not really awake, and didn't even sound English…."

"Uh… I said if you wanted to… go to the park today." Really, what's wrong with me?—it's not a date, nor am I even talking to Kyle directly. There shouldn't be any reason for me to be like this. "And uh, I meant Stark's Pond, not the park."

"Sure," he says in response. "When?"

"When?" I echo. "Today?"

"I mean what time, Stan…."

"Oh." I pause to think about it for a moment. "Whenever."

"…you aren't any help." Kyle either groans or yawns from the other bed, and I distinctively hear the sound of someone or something falling off his bed. "I'll walk over to your place and we'll go now."

I choke on my saliva, or words, or something. "Now?"

"Yeah, now. If you can't decide we're going now." I think Kyle's closet door opens at this point. "I'm still getting dressed, and I'm gonna eat breakfast before I go. Be ready in thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes?"—but he's already hung up by then. I don't hang up the phone, though; for some reason I remain in front of Sparky, motionless, phone still to my ear, and insistent on listening to the silence. I feel… weird. I don't really understand what it is, actually. It's a… strangely happy feeling, even though the butterflies in my stomach are ever-so-relentless.

The idea only now sits on me.

Sparky looks at me with wide eyes as I frown at him. "Do I… really like Kyle?"

A lick to my face is the response.

-

For some reason, I find myself dreading the doorbell.

Within the past twenty minutes I'd learned how hard it was to make thirty minutes pass. Especially when you were anxiously awaiting something in the imminent future, waiting for that thing to happen was simply painful. But I suppose I at least knew an idea as to how long it might actually take; I suppose it'd be worse for a mother who anxiously waits in the waiting room for her son's pending surgery results. But still… it was hard to wait, even knowing how long you were roughly going to have to wait.

And all that build-up while waiting, that tension, that anxiety… it pretty much just sets you up for the moment you finally do hear that—

_DING DONG!_

I jump to a start. It's interesting how, even if I had been expecting it, I still find myself surprised when it happens. I get up from the couch, where I'd been watching the television while waiting, and with a rather exaggerated sigh I make my way over to the door.

"Hey Stan."

I don't look at him—I'm afraid to. I… don't know. It's like I'm scared I'll find out something I don't want to know if I end up looking at him. So instead I look at everything else, which gives me a good view of what he's wearing. He's wearing an orange shirt under a brown, leather jacket, and it's got something written across the front. He's also wearing khakis….

"Hi."

"Stan, you're still dressed in your pajamas!" Frowning, I look down to my own attire… and indeed, I really am still wearing my PJ's. It's rather odd, as you'd think I'd have remembered to do it while heavily anticipating Kyle's arrival. Yet somehow… I managed to miss it altogether.

…and suddenly I find myself being dragged up my own stairs, down the hall, past my curious sister, and into my room. I don't remember if I'm thrown onto my bed or if I sit down on it on my own free will, but somehow I end up watching Kyle rummage through my closet for some clothes to wear. And it's not long before a pile of clothes starts accumulating on my lap.

"I told you to get ready in thirty minutes," Kyle mumbles under his breath, still scavenging for a shirt for me to wear. Somehow I think Kyle's taken a huge liking of this voyage to Stark's… but that might just be a direct consequence of him feeling like I'd replaced him with Craig. And with that in mind, I guess it really does seem obvious that he'd gladly take up the offer of me going out with him.

…but not _going out_ going out… eh.

"Why are you so awake?" I ask him with a sigh. "You definitely weren't like this at all, thirty minutes ago."

"It doesn't take long for me to wake up," Kyle says, tossing me a shirt. "There, your shirt. I'm sure you can find pants for yourself. Now go change. I promise I won't look."

_And I could've found a shirt for myself, too…._ But I don't complain to his face, and so I force Kyle out of my closet before closing myself inside of it. And for some reason I feel… awkward, nervous… as I'm changing, even if I'm alone with no one watching me….

…I don't get it.

"Why's the lock on this side of the door?" Kyle asks through the door, taking me by surprise. I actually do shrug, for some strange reason, but then I quickly vocalize my uncertainty once I realize Kyle can't see me. Afterwards I quickly finish dressing up before stepping outside.

"Thanks for not locking me in," I mumble in his direction. "Definitely… appreciate that."

"Of course." He takes a good look and examines what I'm wearing. "It looks good on you."

…shit, did I blush?

…oh why does my body not want to agree with what I want it to do…?

…besides, I haven't yet confirmed if I really do like him or not…. I'll do that soon.

…I'm not in denial, I swear.

Exiting the house is silent. No one says a word as I put on my shoes and a jacket, and even as we're a good distance or so away neither of us talks. It's… unnerving, I guess. I do open my mouth several times to try and find something to talk about, but I… for some reason I can't.

I'm glad Kyle finds something to say eventually, though. "Anyway, you didn't really tell me on the phone, why exactly are we going to the pond?"

"Why?" He nods at my clarification, and I merely shrug. Sure I needed to talk to Kyle, but… why _did_ I want it at the park? Did I even have a reason for that?—I forgot. "I dunno… I had something to ask you. And then… I dunno. I guess I figured I'd just been at your house, and I don't think your mom would want me over there again… so… yeah."

"Makes sense." He gives a nervous laugh. "But yeah, the mother wasn't too happy with me when you left. She… kind of demanded I tell her what was going on and why I was yelling in the house, let alone with you."

"Nosy," I say weakly, and Kyle gives some sort of vocalization of agreement.

"Pretty much. But hey…." I think he turns to me here, but I choose to look at the road in front of me instead. "About yesterday. I'm not really sure what the hell happened. I'm not really sure what to make of it, either. But… we're cool now, right?"

"Right."—except I think I'd said that much too quickly, and I'm sure Kyle doesn't really believe me. He lets out this sigh that unbelievably sounds like "I'm-disappointed-in-you-why-aren't-you-telling-me." Or at least, if that could be fitted into a sigh, that's what it'd be.

Interesting enough, though, Kyle doesn't pressure me further. Or at least, not yet. Instead I hear the ruffling of paper, and just because of my curiosity I look at the piece of paper he's pulling out from his jacket pockets. On it, there seems to be a poem. Rather lengthy, yet… short, seemingly.

"Hey, Stan…." His voice isn't as confident now, and it only confuses me as to what he might want to say this time. Was he going to bring up something about last night, again?—hopefully not. "You think we'll be friends forever?"

"Forever?" I nod almost instantly; it's a question I'm sure he's asked before, and… well…

_I need him… I don't want to lose him…._

"Definitely, or at least as close to it as possible. Why?"

Kyle laughs. "I don't even know, really. I was just thinking about it last night, for some reason. And it made me wonder… if we really were together until the day one of us died… I mean, not together as in _together_ but you know what I mean."

'Yeah, I do." The pond becomes visible in the horizon; it looks rather vacated, which I guess will make me feel somewhat better. After all, I don't exactly want to be overheard or anything… or rather, I don't want people watching me stumble and stutter… because I'm almost positive I'm going to somehow.

"But back to what I was saying…." Kyle hands me the paper in his hands, which I take without looking at him. It's now slightly crumpled, but the words are still easily legible…. "I was thinking about my funeral and stuff…. No, Stan, I'm not becoming suicidal or anything like that. But I was just… thinking about it, you know?

"And I guess… I thought about lots of stuff. Who would speak, if I wanted to be cremated, who'd want to be there, who'd still be alive… those kinds of questions, you know? And then I thought about what I would want to have as my epitaph. You… know what an epitaph is, right?"

I shrug. "Kind of. Not really."

"It's that engraving that goes on your grave," he explains. "But I was thinking… I mean, I haven't really asked my mom about the Jewish customs on funerals and whatnot, but if I could have one, I was thinking… I dunno." Kyle nudges his head towards the paper. "I'd want to have an excerpt from that on it. It's called _The Garden of Proserpine_… I think by a guy named Swinburne."

"Ah… I see." I look down at the poem in front of me. The entire thing wouldn't fit on his grave, I'm sure. But… there's a particular line that catches my attention and so, though first making sure the path in front of me is clear enough to walk on without paying any attention to it, I begin to read the poem in its entirety.

_Here, where the world is quiet;  
here, where all trouble seems  
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot  
in doubtful dreams of dreams;  
I watch the green field growing  
For reaping folk and sowing  
For harvest-time and mowing,  
A sleepy world of streams._

_I am tired of tears and laughter,  
And men that laugh and weep;  
Of what may come hereafter  
For men that sow to reap:  
I am weary of days and hours,  
Blown buds of barren flowers,  
Desires and dreams and powers  
And everything but sleep._

_Here life has death for neighbor,  
and far from eye or ear  
wan waves and wet winds labor,  
Weak ships and spirits steer;  
They drive adrift, and whither  
They wot not who make thither;  
But no such winds blow hither,  
And no such things grow here._

_No growth of moor or coppice,  
No heather-flower or vine,  
But bloomless buds of poppies,  
Green grapes of Proserpine,  
Pale beds of blowing rushes,  
Where no leaf blooms or blushes  
Save this whereout she crushes  
For dead men deadly wine._

_Pale, without name or number,  
In fruitless fields of corn,  
They bow themselves and slumber  
All night till light is born;  
And like a soul belated,__  
In hell and heaven unmated,  
By cloud and mist abated  
Comes out of darkness morn._

_Though one were strong as seven,  
He too with death shall dwell,  
Nor wake with wings in heaven,  
Nor weep for pains in hell;  
Though one were fair as roses,  
His beauty clouds and closes;  
And well though love reposes,  
In the end it is not well._

_Pale, beyond porch and portal,  
Crowned with calm leaves she stands  
Who gathers all things mortal  
With cold immortal hands;  
Her languid lips are sweeter  
Than love's who fears to greet her,  
To men that mix and meet her  
From many times and lands._

_She waits for each and other,  
She waits for all men born;  
Forgets the earth her mother,  
The life of fruits and corn;  
And spring and seed and swallow  
Take wing for her and follow  
Where summer song rings hollow  
And flowers are put to scorn._

_There go the loves that wither,  
The old loves with wearier wings;  
And all dead years draw thither,  
And all disastrous things;  
Dead dreams of days forsaken,  
Blind buds that snows have shaken,  
Wild leaves that winds have taken,  
Red strays of ruined springs._

_We are not sure of sorrow;  
And joy was never sure;  
To-day will die to-morrow;__  
Time stoops to no man's lure;  
And love, grown faint and fretful,  
With lips but half regretful  
Sighs, and with eyes forgetful  
Weeps that no loves endure._

_From too much love of living,  
From hope and fear set free,  
We thank with brief thanksgiving  
Whatever gods may be  
That no life lives for ever;  
That dead men rise up never;  
That even the weariest river  
Winds somewhere safe to sea._

_Then star nor sun shall waken,  
Nor any change of light:  
Nor sound of waters shaken,  
Nor any sound or sight:  
Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,  
Nor days nor things diurnal;  
Only the sleep eternal  
In an eternal night._

Somewhere along the way we manage to come to a complete stop. It takes me a rather long time to read, particularly because it's still rather early and it does seem a rather… abstract and lengthy poem. But when I'm done reading, I accidentally look up to Kyle's gaze. He's looking at me expectantly, and it's a warm, friendly gaze… and it makes me realize I haven't looked his way in a while.

…and then… that feeling… that strange feeling… roars up inside of me like a monster inside of me, filling my insides with butterflies….

I don't understand it.

…did I ever feel this way with Wendy?

Kyle doesn't quite understand my blank stare. "Well…? What do you think?"

I chuckle. "Eh… to be honest, it's hard to read. Or maybe it's too early. But it sounds… very deep. I think it'd be nice."

"Thanks." I fold the piece of paper back up and hand it back, and Kyle eagerly accepts it. But, in the process, his hand somehow manages to brush mine, and it causes me to jolt. Kyle only looks at me funny, and even laughs as he tucks it back into his jacket.

"I found it when I was searching the internet last night," he continues, looking at the surface of the pond now in front of us. "I don't even really remember how I stumbled up it, really. I'm glad I did, though."

"Yeah."

Silence. You could probably hear a pin drop into the water if the birds weren't chirping here and there. Still, that very thought gives me an idea, and I immediately begin looking for stones on the ground. I'm pretty sure Kyle's looking at me rather curiously as I do so, but eventually I find two good-shaped rocks and hand one to him.

"Skip?" I offer, and he nods. Together we head to the edge of the pond, and we both take a seat by the water. Kyle counts down, and at the 'zero' we both skip the rocks as far as we can. And, like always, Kyle's goes farther.

"Teach me how, one day," I mutter quietly, and he gives a quiet acknowledgment. And this was the type of friendship I was hoping our relationship was more like: best friends who cared for each other. But it wasn't that we cared for each other because we were in love necessarily, but because… we just wanted to be near each other, to stay by each other's side. In fact, our relationship was really just that. We were friends who preferred to be side-by-side… not necessarily always face-to-face… if that made any sense at all.

But now there was supple evidence supporting both sides… and I still don't really know the final verdict. And I couldn't really be on both sides of the fence at the same time, could I…?—so that left one final choice.

"Can I ask you a question?" I ask as we look for another rock to skip.

"That's why we're here, isn't it?"

"Oh… yeah, right." We skip another rock before I continue speaking. "I was just wondering… uh… what do you… I dunno. What do you see me as, I guess?"

Kyle frowns, looking around him for another stone. "You mean what you are to me?"

I shrug. "Kind of, I guess. I dunno…." And again I'm avoiding his gaze. I don't want him to see what I'm feeling… let alone what I'm worried about. There was no way I'd be able to or want to tell him what I'm feeling…. I'm sure it'd hurt him if he knew I was trying to… find anything to assure me I couldn't return his feelings… which I rejected so long ago….

It really is all very confusing. Most of the time I wish I just didn't have to think about it. But life tends to know better, sometimes.

"How honest do you want me to be?"

To this I frown; what's that supposed to mean? Of course I want you to be honest about it!—and when I vocalize these thoughts to him, he merely shrugs.

"I don't know," he begins, shrugging a second time. "Lately it seems like you've been really uncomfortable towards…." I think he mocks me by making those same hand gestures I'd done yesterday. "You know?"

"Yeah." I shut my eyes—he's noticed it, too. But I guess it really wasn't that hard. After all, yesterday had been quite a blur… I'm sure there's lots about it I hadn't really thought about, yet. "But yeah… as honestly as you can."

"Okay." He takes a deep breath, casting another rock into the pond; this time though, for whatever reason, it sinks fairly quickly. "You're my best friend. You're probably the most important person to me. You've been there for me since the beginning. I'm sure I'd almost do just about anything you'd want me to. You're a friend I really wouldn't want to be apart from. And you're also my idol, in a way I really don't feel like explaining right now. And yeah, I guess I did have feelings for you, too, but I could live just as fine in the instance you couldn't return them."

"You care about me?" I ask in clarification, and he nods.

"Yeah, of course."

"But…." I pause, trying to find the right words to use. "Is it because you cared so much for me, because you… I dunno, don't want to leave my side, or however you said it…." I'm not really doing a good job on this…. "Is that why you started having feelings for me?" I become slightly worried when Kyle doesn't immediately respond. While waiting I toss a rock into the pond which, also, does not go very far.

It's when I grab another stone that Kyle speaks. "It's… more than that, Stan. That helps a lot, though. But I mean… there's so much more to it, you know…?"

"I… know." And after that, it all makes sense: the final jigsaw piece, found at last. But it's not the image I'd been hoping for, almost like I'd spent this time putting together the wrong puzzle, only now realizing the final product isn't what was on the box. And that feeling… sparks confusion, something I can't understand, not while Kyle's _right_ here….

"I… have to go."

"Again?" Kyle exclaims after me as I get up and run off. "Why do you keep running on me, Stan?"

I can't reply.

"_What am I doing wrong?_"

_Nothing… I'm the problem, this time._ This feeling of nervousness, anxiety, yet some odd branch of joy for being near him. That feeling as he had accidentally touched me. That feeling after having gotten off the phone with him, that glad feeling of having talked to him. That unexplained reason why I couldn't look at him, why I blushed when he complimented me. That… feeling, this… reason why I cared for him more than a friend should….

Why did it only affect me so much when I was consciously aware of it?

Wendy had tried telling me this, I think, last night on the phone. And somehow… somehow I wanted to think she was wrong.

"After we broke up, I started to realize something, Stan. You cared for your best friend more than you cared for your own girlfriend. It's always been him before me . . . I've known for a while, Stan. I guess I never really said much about it, for my own selfish reasons… I guess I wanted to believe I could still have you for my own. At times I doubted myself, knowing I was loving someone who had his interests elsewhere, and it was those times I'd broken up with you… but not having that feeling of being loved… was enough to change my mind yet again.

"If you really don't believe that you love Kyle more than me…. You've already proven it yourself. That day you had been… sexually agitated… and had come over to my house?—you had to force yourself to want to… I dunno what it was. Prove to me that you loved me? Because I already knew you didn't. Whether you yourself knew it or not….

"I'm sorry Stan. I really am. I hope you sort it all out yourself."

But I'm not sure if I ever will. But one thing's for sure. Wendy and Kenny both think—no, they both _know_—that I like him. And how I view Kyle… is exactly how he views me. And… he had feelings for me, in part because of those. It was all building up… and though I seriously want to deny it….

…did I really like him, too?

My urge to puke in the nearby grass is the only answer I get.  
But it's enough.

* * *

_Posted: August 29th, 2008._

_There's still an interesting lump of things awaiting our two boys in the future, so stick around for a while. Thanks for reading this chapter and story so far! I sincerely hope you get the chance to review._

_-Zak_


	24. Unspoken

For those of you that asked why that incredibly long poem was put in that last chapter… well, that's the reason for the title of the story. It's not a random poem I promise… otherwise I would've just taken excerpts. Anyway, this delay is accredited to the many essays I've had to write lately, as well as the research I had to do... otherwise known as rereading my story. Sorry.

Also, I forgot to congratulate **Phoenix II** for snatching the 400th review. So I suppose the next milestone is 500? I don't think I'll get that far, though… so maybe 450. We'll see.

* * *

_Unspoken_

I guess, in a weird kind of way, talking about Kyle became taboo around me.

But not Kyle himself, no; he's still one of us. Or maybe, if you'd prefer, I'm still one of them. Mainly to put Kyle's mind at ease, I go back to eating lunch with Kyle and the others. Craig and I still talk on the way from English to lunch, and I think Kyle still gives me curious glances whenever he sees us together. But I suppose the fact that I haven't abandoned him for Craig sates Kyle.

Though it feels like a month has passed since my… I don't know, realization perhaps… it's actually only been a week and a half. Either yesterday or the day before, Wendy and I "officially" broke up, Wendy making the point clear that it would be the final time. We'd been discussing it for a while, since that awkward conversation back when I'd been all over the place, and though we didn't directly mention Kyle's name we made it clear that the relationship couldn't and shouldn't keep going as it was. And so eventually we broke up, and then again with a more public audience, giving Wendy the honors of doing the dumping. And oddly enough, of all the breakups of the past, that had been the most pleasant.

Of course, a beneficial side effect to this was the distraction in conversational topics with Kenny. For the week with nothing else to talk about (as his abusive problems were already taboo as it was), the only thing Kenny wanted to talk to me about was Kyle. Not that he ever said his name in person (it was unofficially taboo, after all), but I could tell. The moment I got back from Stark's Pond, Kenny merely smirked before making one of his more vulgar hand gestures… not to mention the pelvic thrusts he makes at the lunch table when I look at him. But now, at the least, he's bent on Wendy, continuously asking me if it's really all right if he can ask her out, _how_ he should ask her out, and anything else involving my opinion.

Interestingly enough, there are only two people who violate this restriction. The first is Craig, who probably doesn't even know anything about the taboo my friends have erected for me. And of course, the only reason why he brings it up, if not for a conversation starter, is because he wants opinions on Tweek. To be honest, I still haven't really thought much about the whole Craig and Tweek deal, especially since I still have other things to think about, such as my views on Kyle and trying to get used to the idea that my ex-girlfriend might soon be dating one of my closest friends. But… that's another story in itself.

The other person, believe it or not, is Cartman.

He's at least smart enough to know not to bring it up at the lunch table, in the instances he does sit with us. But then again, he _is_ a pretty smart kid. After all, as a kid, even though he was being quite the douche to us he was ultimately the guy behind the evil schemes. And though he does come off as not being so intelligent sometimes, I don't doubt he's got it somewhere in there.

But still, he does talk about Kyle a lot to me, whenever we're not near Kyle. And whether he's doing it with the intention to irk me, I'm not sure. And I suppose now would be the perfect example of this, just as I part ways with Craig and sit down at the table we've unofficially designated as our lunch table.

"Hey Stan," Cartman greets me nonchalantly, waving me off before carefully eyeing the Tupperware in front of him. For some reason Wendy, Kyle, and Kenny aren't here yet, which leads me to believe their teacher let them out late.

"What's going on, Cartman? Anything good?"

"If by good you mean this leftover pot pie, then yeah." Cartman smirks, picking up his fork. "But you know, Stan, I think I should be asking you that."

"Me? Why?"

"Aw, don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about, Stan! It's pretty obvious, with you and Kahl. And it's definitely not the first time we've brought this up."

I bite my lip; Cartman is surely unrelenting. And it's times like this I do appreciate everyone's unspoken rule, because if I had to go through this with every conversation I had…. "What _about_ me and Kyle?"

"Oh you know," said Cartman. And in truth, yes, I do know. Of course I know. Cartman doesn't, though, and I'm sure he probably wants to… just to be able to get some dirt on Kyle.

I shrug. "I guess we've just come to a falling out for a while, that's all. Nothing big, Cartman."

To this, Cartman laughs. "Nothing big indeed, Stan. I mean for as long as I've known you guys that's all you've been doing. It's either you two get along real well or you two get up in some argument and become pussies with each other. It's not like your whining and complaining and complete gayness toward each other is new to anybody."

"…gayness?"—and go me for emphasizing that word, of all the words I could have. I'm genius.

"You know, acting like a married couple business, bitching and avoiding each other when you guys are angry with each other."

"Oh." Cartman nods before stuffing his mouth with a heaping forkful of potpie. For some reason, the other three still aren't here… so either the three of them are just avoiding me or Cartman (or both), or they're just really late….

"But like I'm trying to say," Cartman continues, clearing his mouth with one large and audible swallow, "you really need to go up to Kahl. Be the man, Stan! Go up to him and say 'Ahm tired of your shit, Kahl! Let's just forget about all of it and start over, you got it?' You know? Because right now even I, the amazing Cartman who doesn't even really know much about your escapades, thinks what's going on is pretty pathetic."

…and with that he returns to his potpie. For a moment I merely stare at him with disbelief, perhaps in amusement. But then, as his words ring in my ears a second time, I find myself frowning.

Am I _really_ finding myself considering what he said? He doesn't even know what's going on between us, so how could Cartman's advice even mean anything significant? Wouldn't advice from Kenny or Wendy be more reliable, since they actually know what's going on?—oh, but wait, they won't even talk to me about it.

But if there's one thing that Cartman got right, it was that it really is starting to get pathetic. I'm currently avoiding Kyle this time because I'm afraid to face the truth, even though I've faced it many times within the last week or two. But it's not like this is the first time I'm too much of an idiot to be around Kyle, oh no… in fact I think it's almost become commonplace.

I guess it's not like before, at the least, where I couldn't even look at Kyle. I guess that's some sort of improvement.

Speaking of looking at Kyle, the moment I take my gaze off of Cartman eating his lunch, I catch Kyle, Wendy and Kenny making their way towards the table, all holding bought lunches in their hands. And that, I suppose, answers why they were taking forever today, as they were all in line getting food.

"Sorry we took so long," said Kenny quickly, claiming the seat directly in front of me. He catches my gaze and gives me a quick smile, as if accepting a gratification of thanks… except, I never exactly thanked for anything. Wendy, following suit, takes the other side of Cartman, which leaves Kyle to sit in the empty seat to my left.

"You don't mind, do you?" he asks me quietly, and I merely shake my head.

I feel my heart pounding as I hear him taking his seat next to me.

…damnit, I really am pathetic.

"Kyle, did you get your math homework done?" Kenny asks, flipping open a textbook as he stuffed fries into his mouth.

"Kenny, are you serious? You forgot to do it again?"

"It's not my fault!" Kenny protests, though internally I do begin to wonder how exactly could it not be his fault… and then of course I hang my head when I hear his reasoning: "Stan didn't remind me about it!"

"…it's not like he's your personal agenda-keeper or anything!" Kyle snaps in reply, tossing the blonde a folder full of paper. "There, should be the first thing in the left pocket."

"Thanks, Kyle, you're a lifesaver." I smile as I watch Kenny pull out the page of homework, listening to Wendy and Cartman talking about something in the distant background. Yet somehow something feels odd, and as I continue to think upon it I can't quite seem to place my finger on it….

"Just don't rely on Stan so much, especially when he doesn't know what you need or don't need to be doing." Kenny nods, though I doubt he's listening, as he's probably putting more focus toward finishing his homework…. But then a curious thought comes to me: why hadn't I been able to remind Kenny to do his homework?—wouldn't he have been reminded simply by watching me do mine?

…oh.

"I… don't think I did mine either," I mutter, hanging my head yet again.

"Go figure," Kyle mutters.

"What do you mean, 'Go figure'?"

I think Kyle ignores my question altogether. "I can't lend it to you since Kenny's using it. You can borrow it after I guess."

"It might take me a while," Kenny says quickly.

"Then work faster and stop talking," Kyle says. "Seriously, I have no idea how the both of you are going to…."

"Stan?" Wendy interrupts, and immediately I shift my focus to her. "Why aren't you eating anything?"

"Yeah," Kyle pipes in, completely ditching his previous statement. "Something bugging you?" Internally I can't help but to laugh, that of all people Kyle's asking me if something's going on. But instead of causing anything unnecessary here, I merely shake my head and shrug.

"Not hungry I guess."

"Bullshit," Kyle snaps, though he quickly gets a reproachful look from Wendy. "Just… let someone know if you need anything, all right?"

"Sure."

"Ah, just leave the boy alone!" Cartman says, immediately burping after speaking. "He's been recently dumped by his inconsistent girlfriend of who knows how long, give the boy some room! He's allowed to mope if he—"

Wendy slaps him. And somehow, I think that makes my day.

-

Today's one of the days Kenny's going back to his… house. Even now, I still don't know what he does there—every time I ask him he simply says he goes back to keep his mom from worrying. Maybe that really is true, I'm no longer really that sure. But I let it go, and I wish him the best of luck for whatever he's going to do as I drop him off in front of his destination.

And of course, because of my incredibly genius reasoning skills, the last thing I have to do is drop Kyle off home. Normally I drop him off first, just so I don't have to be alone with him in a car. But somehow today… that reasoning didn't quite register.

Naturally, between the time Kenny leaves my car and the time Kyle does, I feel as if I should address this… issue, this _thing_ to Kyle.

"Kyle, I…."

"Yeah…?"

"Nothing, it's… never mind."

"Stan…."

…and naturally, I end up failing.

-

Sitting alone in my room is a terrible feeling, I conclude. There's no one to talk to, nothing to do; even Sparky isn't sitting in the corner of my room as he normally is. It's a terrible feeling to let sink in, and even knowing this I allow it to continue doing so.

I do try to take the time to collect my thoughts. I'm currently in a bad state with Kyle because I'm afraid to conclude whether I really like him or not… and even Wendy, Kenny, and my own body have concluded that I do. But my mind doesn't want to believe it, and neither do I….

Of course, there is one seemingly simple answer to this, to simply tell Kyle and get it over with. I mean, wouldn't that be easy enough?—he already likes me, anyway. But I guess I'm still afraid that it might end up badly, that he might feel like I'm playing with him, having denied him and then soon after accepting his feelings. And besides, what if this all dies down and in the end I don't really like Kyle in the way I've so far concluded?—surely that would break Kyle the most.

So then… now what, if not that? I can't simply go back to Wendy and pretend like my realization never happened, especially now that we've come to a mutual agreement to split ways forever. In a way I've dug a trap for myself; the only way forward seems to be involving Kyle, yet I refuse to acknowledge or act upon the idea that that's the path before me. And the fact that I'm still unsure of this path even when I already know I have a great chance at succeeding makes me feel all the more pathetic for questioning this, and yet still….

I really wish I could get more advice upon the matter. Of course, granted that Kenny and Wendy have already given me some—hell, even Cartman has—somehow I wish there were someone else I could ask. Perhaps it's just me wanting to hear what I want to hear, like maybe an assurance that it's okay to be doubting, or perhaps an argument telling me not to pursue him. Yet everyone I've asked seems to be for pursuing these unexplained feelings for Kyle, and most of them deem the subject too awkward or too over-visited of a topic to bring up around me anymore… and asking them to bring it up again would only yield things I already know.

If there were only some way….

Would asking Kyle himself be okay? If I could ask him hypothetically… but then again, it's pretty much a spoken rule that people who speak hypothetically usually refer to themselves….

And then something hits me. If there was one way I could try and get something out of Kyle, even the slightest hint of advice or help or opinion… there was still one thing of his I could turn to, something I never got around to, something I only just now remembered in my desperation….

Growing somewhat more excited, I move to my laptop and turn it on. While waiting for it to load, my eyes happen to glance upon the wall I'd reserved for pictures. Frankly put… there still wasn't much on the wall. The first picture I happen to look at is a picture taken by Kenny, if I can remember correctly. The backdrop looks like Stark's Pond, and in the photo is Wendy, Kyle, and myself, me being in the middle of the two. For some reason I cringe looking upon this picture; maybe it's just because my mind's been thinking so abstractly lately, but somehow I see the photo as a sort of foreshadowing of what actually ended up happening, even if by the look of our faces it had probably been about four years before. I have arms slung around both of them, caught in between, not sure to whom I should be closer….

_Stan… I want you to choose… Kyle… or me…._

…and I had chosen Kyle, hadn't I? Wendy had known it all along, too….

After turning to the computer to check if it had loaded up fully yet (it hadn't), I returned to the other pictures on the wall. A bit to the right of the last photo was another one, and in this picture were Kyle and me, dressed in our formal attire for a homecoming dance, smiling at the camera as if it'd been the best day of our lives. And maybe it was, I don't really remember anymore—it had been a night with Wendy, and upon reflection I think I may've ignored Kyle that night even knowing he was dateless….

The first thing I'd noticed was the way Kyle looked. It was bad enough that his crimson hair stood out against his black jacket, but that aside there was still something about him that I couldn't quite place. It was like a pain to the gut, but it wasn't anything too painful, just… well… I don't know. It was the same feeling I got whenever I saw Kyle, back when the world felt like it was collapsing around me, or even when he'd touched my hand….

And of the second, more important thing that came across my mind was how unfair it was. Within the picture were two best friends enjoying each other's presence in that one moment of time, allowing the night to take them away without concern of the status between them. Why couldn't that be the case now?—why couldn't we just be best friends and leave it there, why did this other shit have to arise in between us. Why did we have to fall in love instead of being the close friends we already were?—was it not enough?—was it really necessary for us to be at this level in order to be truly happy? Or were we always just fine as we'd been before, in that picture, and everything else was just in excess?

…thankfully, instead of having to think about that entire mess, my computer decides to intervene, telling me that it's finally finished booting up. I leave the pictures and the accompanying trains of thought for now, taking a seat at my desk, and clicking things on the desktop until I get to where I want. To think, for the longest time Kyle had been nagging at me for this, and I'd just kept forgetting about it…. I wonder if things would have changed, maybe, if I'd gotten to this sooner, we might've skipped so many awkward moments… but then again, wasn't it because of these awkward moments that I'm no longer with Wendy and am instead considering returning his feelings…? Is that even a good consequence?

I decide not think about that either, so instead I heave a sigh and begin to read.

_Stan:  
To be honest, I really don't know why I'm writing this email. I didn't get any reply to my last one, and frankly I doubt you even read your email much. But I really need to get this off my chest, and so perhaps in writing this I'll find the consolation I need… and who knows, maybe I just won't hit send.  
It's just, I don't know what to think right now, and maybe you do. So I ask you (though please, take this with an open mind): what would you say, hypothetically, if you knew a kid with whom you spent a good amount of your time—so much that you ended up being really good friends—and suddenly you grew really attached to this kid? I don't know if you really got that (and I wouldn't put it past you, either), but what I mean is… can you grow attached to someone merely by a good amount of association?  
Now, no longer speaking hypothetically, as I'm sure you've the intelligence to connect the dots, what I mean to say is that after spending so much time with you, I've suddenly felt quite attached to you. I can't really explain why it's only now that I've felt this; maybe it's because it's only now that I can actually acknowledge what these feelings are. I really do wish I could say that this feeling comes from just being with you a lot, but somehow… I don't know.  
You're a very close friend to me, Stan… perhaps too close. It's because of this I think that this attachment isn't because of how I hoped it to be, but instead because I… actually am attracted to you. It feels really awkward to admit such a thing over the Internet, and maybe that'll cause me to not send this and just tell you in person—or maybe you'll just never read this and I'll be safe. But upon thinking about it, I can't really draw any other conclusion…. Most of what I do has you in mind, and I'm pretty sure I'd do most anything for you…. I don't really know how to explain it. And maybe you aren't really meant to. Maybe you love someone for a medley of reasons, yet in the end it's never to be expressed in words… I suppose love surpasses words, anyway.  
So in the end this ended up just being some sort of rant. I guess the only thing you got out of it was that your best friend now has homosexual urges for you… sorry. But typing this up helped me some, so it at least served me some purpose. I just thought I'd let you know in case you wonder why my behavior changes so drastically.  
If you've actually read this far, thanks for listening to me. I do have one favor though… since I never know if you read my emails or not, for the sake of easing my mind, do you think you could tell me if you read this? Thanks.  
Kyle._

At first, for several moments, my mind draws a blank at reading this. The first thing that registers into my mind is how long ago the email had been. It had felt so long ago when Kyle had first told me to check my email account to read this… hadn't it been when he'd accidentally kissed me, when I was trying to ask him—no, wait, I think he'd even mentioned it long before when we were fixing Wendy's toilet. That… really was a long time ago… and to think all the way back then he was harboring these feelings, back when I was so oblivious to everything….

The thing I will get the most out of, though, is one particular line in the message: _Maybe you love someone for a medley of reasons, yet in the end it's never to be expressed in words_. Leave it to Kyle to say something deep, let alone use the word 'medley' in an email… but still, I can't help but to stop on those words. After all, this entire time I'd been trying to prove or disprove these feelings for Kyle… and maybe ultimately it never needed an explanation. Or even if I did it merely to see whether I really had the feelings to return to Kyle, I no longer needed a reason to justify my actions in pursuing them now.

And maybe things can turn out in the weirdest ways, ways that throw you completely off your game. And maybe you wonder why the hell it had to be this way, maybe you seek an explanation for everything that's happened… but maybe, like Kyle said, maybe it's not meant to be explained verbally. Maybe it's better to accept the fact that it is, instead of why it is, and to instead act upon the present. And indeed, at least I would think so, living that way would be least stressful for me… and perhaps the people around me, too.

At that moment Sparky decides to ruin my glorious epiphany, pushing open my bedroom door with leash in mouth. He stops at my side, giving me a rather persuasive pout, eyes wide with conviction. "No, Sparky," I begin to tell him, but then suddenly that objection dies. Suddenly, armed with this newly discovered insight, I decide there's someone I want to share my realizations with.

"Come on, Sparky," I say jovially, and with quite the leap we race each other out of the house.

* * *

_Posted: October 20th, 2008._

_So I was going to include one last scene for the chapter, but I decided to hold off on it until the next chapter…. This way, the next chapter won't be as short as I was expecting it to be._

_So I've decided that I tend to write easiest and most efficiently under two conditions. First, when I have other writing assignments to complete (in this case, two ten page essays on completely irrelevant subjects due on consecutive days), where it would seem I'd rather write a story than be stuck writing an essay. And the second condition, oddly enough, is when I'm running a cold. Don't ask on that one._

_Anyway, I do apologize again for an incredibly late update_…_. I've already stated my excuses, so I'll say no more on that. But I was happy about this chapter, so that should count for something, right?_

_I would earnestly appreciate reviews, at this point, as my writer's block is frustrating me and I'm not sure how confident I am in terms of how the things I'm putting out are looking from the readers' standpoint, so feedback would be nice._

_Oh, and did you notice the new name? See my author page for more on that._

_- G.A._


	25. Surprises

Yes… I'm late; it's been almost nine months. I still love this story very much so, but it's just been hard to write recently. But I reread it again and decided that I love it too much to abandon it, so I'm going to be working on it slowly so long as I get it done. Though, I had trouble writing this chapter, hence why it took so long. I'm not happy with it, and I apologize in advance if you don't like it either—but it had to get done eventually.

* * *

_Surprises_

For once, I'm actually rather calm in the midst of anticipation.

…of course, I guess it's not exactly fair to say that, especially since the person I'm waiting for this time isn't exactly one to make me anxious or nervous. But still, the idea that for once I'm not freaking out about something… it really is a nice feeling.

I'm even more at peace than Sparky is, which I suppose says something granted his age. Maybe he's just seeking some sort attention from strangers, as all he's really doing is barking at everyone who walks by. Maybe he's just trying to guess whom I waiting for, though I guess he'd be cheating….

So who's this person I'm waiting for, then?

"About time, Craig."

"Gimme a break," he almost immediately replies, scoffing at Sparky's insistent barking. "You called me only ten minutes ago, it's not like I was sitting idly doing nothing until you called."

"Yeah, I know," I reply, laughing quietly to myself. "Thanks for coming at least."

"Sure thing… but do something about the dog, he's gonna make me deaf."

"Afraid that's something I can't really change, sorry."

"Shouldn't have brought him along, then." I laugh quietly to myself, bending to Sparky's level to scratch the area behind his ear. As expected, he pants happily and becomes silent. "So then," Craig continues, "dare I ask what hurry you have in calling me over? I mean it's rather late for aimless—"

"—I get the idea," I interject, shaking my head. "I guess… well, I suppose you could say I had an epiphany of sorts."

Craig raises a curious eyebrow. "An epiphany?"

I nod rapidly. "Yeah. I guess you can say I figured out my situation with Kyle." Craig nods at this, seemingly impressed, and as he folds his arms across his chest he begins to interrogate. And so I give him the details—not all of them, of course, just the ones I'm sure of (or at least remotely sure of). Or, more specifically, I tell him that sometimes relations between friends aren't meant to be explained or comprehended, that sometimes you should just let things happen without needing to classify them as a certain type of action.

When I'm finished talking, which surprisingly takes longer than I'd have expected, Craig gives me a rather frustrated sigh—also to my surprise.

"I came out here just to hear that? Why thanks, Marsh, I'm glad you've figured your shit out! I hope you have an awesome time with your new boyfriend."

I blush a deep red. "Don't… call him boyfriend. I haven't told Kyle about this yet."

"Doesn't concern me, either way." He stuffs his hands in his pockets and begins to turn away. "Anyway, was that all you had to tell me?"

I shake my head. "No Craig, I—" but something was wrong here. I'd come here expecting much else from Craig, a different reaction… why had I not gotten it? "I only told you because you were having issues with Tweak, weren't you? I figured that since I figured out my… shit with Kyle, maybe by telling you, you might be able to use—"

"Stan, I'm sure that if I copy and paste your solution into my problem that things will just happily go away." His tone is harsh and cold, much unlike the tone I'd been used to hearing for the past few weeks—and not at all what I wanted to hear upon coming here.

"Not necessarily copy and paste, Craig… just insight or thought or—"

"—besides, Stan, what if you're wrong?"

I freeze. "If… I'm… wrong?" Wrong about what?—about everything I'd just concluded?—about everything that'd just made me happy, even if only for a small period of time? I couldn't… I couldn't be wrong about this, could I?

Wrong that I might like….

"How does any of that explain you actually liking Kyle? From what you've told me, you basically gave me reasons for why Kyle's a close friend to you. But what makes that anything more than a best friend?—you can like your best friend too, but from what you presented I don't see how you can conclude with anything more. Kyle's a close friend to you, perhaps too close, and all you've decided upon is that you shouldn't question how close he is to you, that he might even be closer to you than your girlfriend—which might I remind you is actually normal. Nothing sexual, nothing about you wanting to bone him, or spend your future with him, or even simply liking him."

I have no immediate response save bowing my head. Was Craig right?—no, he couldn't be. Only moments before I felt sure in concluding that I actually might like Kyle. How could something like that change so quickly?—he had to be wrong. Plus, he didn't know about my puking, the unsettling feeling I was getting over this….

But he did explain why I had chosen Kyle over Wendy….

Now I wasn't sure.

Much to my surprise, yet again, Craig apologizes. "I'm sorry, Stan, I didn't mean to dethrone you from your high chair, so to say. It wasn't my intention to rain on your parade or anything, I was just making…."

I sigh to myself, though I think he hears me. "I understand, Craig. I was only trying to help, as were you. But… I think I need to be alone for a bit."

"Sorry," I catch him muttering, all before I turn away and drag Sparky home with me.

Well that was… not _exactly_ what I had in mind.

-

The walk home is excruciating, and though I try my best to alleviate the pain by not having to think, of course the only thing I manage to do is to think. Not that I'm truly aware of what I'm thinking of, exactly; it feels like my brain is scanning thoughts and possibilities as they come to me, but none of them are really being registered. But I'm sure the words Kyle, love, and friend are prevalent in all of them.

And of course, the entire time Sparky happily walks before me, barking at the slightest oddity and encouraging me to walk faster. To think, just a few moments before, I felt more at peace than he did…. At times I wonder what it's like inside of that dog's head, how much he has to think about things—or maybe even how little. The whole dog part aside, I think I wouldn't mind having Sparky's conscience.

As I approach my house I can barely make out a person standing in front of my house. Frowning, I pick up the pace to see who it is. The person looks about my height, possibly the same age as me too—but other than that I really can't pick up on much else in this dark. Though it's slightly obvious that person's waiting for me.

Since the world's out to get me, and because misfortune is a close friend of mine, it just has to be Kyle who's waiting at my house.

"Kyle…?"

For some reason he jumps on the spot, shock across his face as he turns around. "Oh, hey Stan, where've you been? Don't scare me like that…."

"Walking Sparky," I reply simply, tugging a little on his leash. It's a good thing it's gotten dark now, because I'm not entirely sure how keen I am on having to make direct eye contact with Kyle. "Could ask the same about you though, Kyle. What're you doing at my house?—well rather, outside my house. I'm sure my mom wouldn't mind letting you in."

Kyle chuckles nervously. "Well, I _was_ throwing windows at your—wait, I mean pebbles at your windows. Yeah…." He laughs at his mistake. "You know, to try and get your attention. But now I see why you didn't hear me."

"Sorry." Sparky takes advantage of this moment by making one last bathroom break. "Well I'm here now, sorry about that. What'd you need?"

"Oh I didn't need you," he says quickly, which for some reason causes my insides to throb unnecessarily. But why? If Craig was really right… why? And even if he wasn't right…. "I was looking for Kenny."

"He's not here tonight."—though ass for what Kenny was doing while away, I honestly had no idea.

Kyle raises his hands in offense. "All right then, no need to get so pissed about it, geez Stan."

"I was not—" I begin, but then I realize I just might've said that a little too harshly. "…sorry."

"Stan…." And it's not the first time he's used my name like that. I almost want to say even he's starting to suspect something, or maybe… maybe he already knows?

But what could he know, anyway? There's nothing to know!—oh who am I kidding.

But even if there was something to know, was there anything wrong with that…?

No, because he's felt similar anyway.

Yes, because he'll think I've just been messing with his—

"Stan…?" I shake my head free from my conscience and face Kyle again, who's now got the most peculiar expression on his dimly lit face. "You… okay?"

"I think." Though I probably should've just said yes to get him off my back… assuming he would've believed me.

"You think…?"

"Yeah." I shrug slightly. "Just got told things I wasn't keen on listening to. I guess I'm okay."

"…I see." I give a small nod before walking past him and toward my house. But go figure I'd have issues with finding the key to opening the door. And of course, Kyle takes that time to interrogate me further. "I hope you don't expect me to understand what you're referring to with just that."

"Not at all."

"…what happened, Stan?"

"Nothing." And with a hand on my shoulder I'm suddenly thrown against my own door, making a thud as my back makes contact. I mouth my pain and wince, but not before Kyle's bright eyes glower at me, his face much closer than I'm used to seeing it.

But those aren't happy expressions coming from his face as he glares at me. "That's bullshit and you know it. Lately you've been acting strange, Stan, don't think I haven't noticed. You've been running on me, you're keeping shit to yourself, and you're acting as if… as if… I don't even know, anymore! But whatever it is, I'm saddened that you won't even tell me!"

"It's not like you told me either!" I blurt out, all before realizing that I probably shouldn't have said that.

"…what…?"

"Nothing," I quickly mutter, trying to divert my gaze elsewhere. But it's only now—being incredibly self-conscious—when I realize the position Kyle's got me in, how he's basically pinned me to the door, his face so close to mine….

"Get off of me." It's a pathetic whisper, so quiet it's almost barely audible.

"Stan, stop ignoring my question—"

"Get off…."

"Stan, look at me."

"Get off of me… please?" I finally take a glance at him, and there's something about me that apparently casts out all the anger and hate in his eyes. Suddenly, they feel softer, though an unmistakable sign of hurt is buried within his expression.

"Stan… I…." And with what luck the door behind me opens, and we both fall through. Sparky yells a bunch and runs through the now open door, but otherwise does nothing to help us… not that he could. We land in a heap, Kyle on top of me, and suddenly our position is even more unfavorable than our previous one.

It doesn't really help that Shelley is laughing at the stupidity of how we look.

"Thought I heard a noise," she says idly, and then ascends the stairs once more. I think she mutters something like "stupid lovebirds" as she returns to her room, but I'm not too sure. What I am sure of, however, is the awkward heap at the front door, and our inability to do anything about it.

But after some more pathetic "Get off me" cries, we return to our feet, and I close the door behind us. We neutrally decide to go to my room, and after I fetch Sparky and return him to the corner in my room, I find myself facing Kyle once more.

"So now will you tell me?" he pleads once more; he's noticeably less demanding than he was a few seconds before.

Still, my only response is:

"I'm sorry."

-

Dear Kyle,

I can see why you wrote that email to me. Feelings like this are much harder to express in person.

After much consideration, I think I'm forced to come to the conclusion that I really do like you too; Craig's wrong (but we won't go into what I mean by that). And I'm not saying this just because Kenny, Cartman, and even my ex-girlfriend, as well as probably half our school, all think so too. I've had to ask a lot of questions, as well as to reflect upon a lot of things to myself, and I honestly feel like this is the conclusion I've come up with.

I commend you for being able to keep these kinds of things to yourself. Personally, I've been struggling with it. Perhaps not in the same way as you have, though. But it's obvious you're better at handling these kinds of things, since I would never have seen it coming from you, yet you're basically dying for me to just spit it out already—or so I think at least.

Would you be mad at me? I feel like you might, since I'd spent the time to tell you that I can't return your feelings, yet here am I am presenting my own to you. I recognize the fact that it's probably very cruel of me, but… I don't know. It took an awful lot of opening my eyes to truths to realize there were things I simply wasn't seeing from the right perspective. I'm sorry I came too late; you've more than likely moved on now.

One day I'll probably write this to you for real—or if I'm feeling lucky, maybe I'll even tell you in person. I hope you understand where I'm coming though, the day this confrontation actually comes to realization.

I'm sorry, dude.

Stan

-

"You plan on telling me now?" Kyle asks me, head titled as always. "You said you'd tell me if I beat you at Mortal Kombat."

"And that was definitely a draw," I reply cheekily, and he immediately goes up in flames.

"How is that a draw? Your television is definitely spelling out my victory on the screen!"

"You cheated."

"I did not cheat!" I only laugh quietly, shaking my head as he goes off on me. But for some reason, I much prefer this dialogue to that of only hours before. It's more… playful, less straining.

"You know Stan," Kyle begins, shaking his head; "when the time comes you're willing to talk to me, you've got a _hell_ lot of explaining to do. You're aware of this, right?"

"Of course," I reply quickly, shrugging it off. "Wonder how much of it you'll remember to ask me."

"I'm writing it all down."

"Sure you are." It's almost one in the morning now, and Kyle's still at my house. His initial claim had been to not leave until he got it out of me, but as the time passed so did his determination. He was still here, though, even after constantly hearing me teasing him about telling him one day. And though I felt bad for leading him on, I couldn't help but encourage the playful atmosphere.

But we'd gotten through almost every single video game in my room, and it wouldn't be long before parting ways would be the only option we had… since holding actual conversations was the last thing I wanted to do.

I'm sure it's everything Kyle would want to do, however. Funny how life works.

"I'm going to be very bold here, Stan," he begins, and instantly I know he's yet again gone back to what I'm hiding from him; "but does all of this have to do with me?"

I choke. "Of course not, Kyle!"

"Your reaction says otherwise."

"No, really…." I look desperately for an excuse. "It's to do with what Craig said, remember…? That's all. He just said things I wasn't really expecting to hear."

"And that happened… today?"

"Yeah."

"Then that can't be it." I hate that Kyle can be so perceptive at times. "I can take context clues and implications, Stan. You ask me certain questions then go all emo about them, in general you're moody around me, and basically you're doing a poor job at keeping something from me."

"If I'm doing a poor job, why are you still asking me to tell you?"

"Because…." He sighs. "Because I don't know what exactly it is, yet. You're confusing me, and just when I think I've figured it out you say something that goes against my conclusion. So… just tell me yourself, once and for all, all right? We're friends, right?—you can tell me."

"I…."—can't tell you. Or at least that's what I've been convincing myself all evening. But really, looking beyond my stubbornness, could anything bad really come out of this…?

This might as well be my final breath.

"Yeah… you're right. It… it is about you."

Kyle smiles. "I know. Good to see you've admitted it. Now explain."

"Explain…?" I begin, and Kyle merely nods at me. Except… where would I begin? Should I start with how my girlfriend of twenty-something tries broke up with me because she felt like I was better off with Kyle than her? Or maybe that Cartman might actually be onto something when he says this game of tag is pathetic, or that I'm beginning to puke over him, or that….

Why did this have to be Kyle, again? Why not some random guy?—or was it because it was Kyle, because it would never be any other random guy?

It's funny how sometimes you think you have everything figured out, and it barely takes anything for you to realize that… well, you actually don't. And I feel like this is one of those times, because even though I feel like only hours ago I had accepted what I felt was the actual truth, I find myself asking the same questions I thought I'd answered before.

Why Kyle?

What is Kyle to me?

Why do I feel this way?

Do I like him as my friend or as a….

Am I gay?

How will this affect things between us?

Does this mean I won't have any—?

"Stan…?" I return to Kyle, who's frantically waving his hands in my face. "You know you can tell me, dude. I won't judge you."

I bite my lip and nod. "Right. I, err, Kyle…."

"Yeah, Stan?"

"Kyle, I… I think that I…." The words aren't reaching my mouth and I don't know why.

"You think that you… what…? Stan, talk to—"

"I think… no, I _believe_ that I… that I've…."

"Stan, please—"

"I've fallen in love with you!" and with that I feel like the stone within me's been removed, like a helium balloon freed from its weighted burden. I feel… relieved. Yet after looking at Kyle's now horrified facial expression, after watching realizations flicker one after the other on his face, worry begins to fill me.

…what have I done…?

He hates me… again! And now I've gone and ruined everything, and there's gonna be more shit between us and none of this will ever be—

No. I don't know that yet. There's no turning back, but… I don't know for a fact that everything's lost.

When he makes no noise or motion, I close my eyes and sigh. "I love you… Kyle."

Nothing.

I will myself a second time. "I love you."

Nothing still.

"I love you, Kyle."

Irritated, Kyle steps forward and begins yelling things at me, most of which pass through one ear and out the other. I don't comprehend any of it, I can't understand or even hear half of it; there's but one thing that's passing through my mind, only one thing I can think of….

"Kyle, I'm sorry," I say to him quietly, and then I too step forward.

And I kiss him.

* * *

_Posted: July 17th, 2009._

_Definitely overdue, but I'll try to make my next update sooner that nine months, especially since that hurdle aka writer's block has been overcome :P_

_Also, I made a twitter account for you readers to follow, if any of you use it. My username is GenisAurion. Basically, I'll be posting updates on how my stories are progressing; that way, you have a better idea on when to expect updates. I promise, it won't be a bad investment._

_Basically, what drove me to finishing this chapter was every review that came into my inbox. Thanks to all of you for giving me the motivation to finally push through this chapter!_

_And I survived my first year of university! Sophomore year, here I come! AND I bought myself a new car! A Nissan Versa 2009... so much has happened since I last updated!  
_

_Reviews and feedback are more than appreciated. I know it wasn't that great of a chapter, but if you did enjoy it or if you realy think it sucked I'd love to hear it from you guys._

_- G. A.  
_


	26. Forecasts

So I'd say the Twitter thing is working fine so far. Are you surprised for this update being so quickly? Have some faith in me! I posted this quickly because I think some of you are doubting that I'll be around to stay. I promise, I will! As long as I can! And I'll tell you when I'll have to stop updating again—yet another use for following my Twitter. :)

And I personally love this chapter, so I hope you do too! Enjoy!

* * *

_Forecasts_

I find myself sitting in the northeast corner of the Shakey's Pizza building. Nothing too exciting, save waiting for a cheese pizza for two and talking to my ex-girlfriend about my troubles. But otherwise, everything's just dandy.

"I still think you shouldn't have kissed him," Wendy says nonchalantly, giving me a shrug and a regretful sigh. "It just might've been much, you know? Basically saying 'JK, I do love you, I changed my mind,' and sealing the deal with a kiss?—not so much, Stan."

"I… got carried away I guess." It isn't exactly what I would call it, to be honest, but it was probably the best I could come up with. Or, rather, 'Kyle' and 'I love you' were the only phrases I could manage saying at the time. But Wendy didn't really need to know that part.

"Not surprised though, Stan. It's not like you haven't barged into my house and repeated 'I love you' robotically in the past."—and that hadn't even been half a year ago….

"What should I have done?"

"What should you have done?" Wendy echoes, giving me her you-aren't-seriously-asking-me-this glare. "Consulted me, of course. We both know you're terrible without asking either Kyle or me first, and granted this deals with Kyle…."

"Fine, I messed up." I sigh, turning away even as the pizza pie and some plates are set before us.

"You didn't mess up," Wendy says encouragingly, placing her hand on mine. "I'm sure he's only trying to sort things out again, trying to decide how he feels about it all. But don't think that by not messing up you haven't thrown a wrench at him, either."

I shrug. "I still think that's messing up. Dare I mention that he won't look at or even talk to me?"

"He's just trying to think things over, I promise." Wendy nods to the pizza. "Here, eat some, it'll do you some good. And while you're at it, tell me what happened again." I sigh, helping myself to a slice of pizza. Cheese pizza has always been more Wendy's kinda thing, and it only occurred to me after we weren't dating that I actually didn't have a taste for cheese pizza, that I only got it because Wendy liked it more. Consequently I didn't quite see myself eating some as Wendy had suggested, but I at least take a bite to appease her.

"Basically, I never wanted it to be this way."

"Who does?"—and she's right. I distinctly remember Kyle telling me the same thing.

"Kyle started bugging me about my mood, which had only been because of something I'd discussed with Craig earlier that day, and eventually he managed to coax me into talking to him about stuff… which ended up with me confessing. And when I realized I didn't like the silence he was giving me, I felt like maybe he didn't believe me or that I was messing with him, and so I started… I dunno…."

"Being a robot?" Wendy offers, smirking.

I nod solemnly. "He yelled stuff at me, stuff I really wish I'd heard properly. But I remember being too… I dunno, and without thinking I kissed him."

"I see. Did he mind?" I'll admit it's a little weird that Wendy's being so inquisitive about this whole ordeal. First, that my ex-girlfriend would actually care this much about my affairs after her—or at least, not caring psychopathically. Second, that she seemed to want to know the smallest of details about my affairs with Kyle, almost as if it made her happy or as if she was trying to stalk me. And last, well… it's just creepy and weird in general that we're talking about this to begin with.

"I don't know. I almost want to say he kissed back, to be honest… but before I knew for sure, he pulled away and stormed out of my house."

To this, Wendy raises an eyebrow. "…stormed?"

I shrug. "I guess ran would be slightly more accurate. He didn't wake up the house as he left or anything. But…."

"But…?" Wendy takes a bite from her pizza. "But what?"

In contrast, I merely take a nibble from the tip of my own slice. "But… his face, Wendy… it looked so pained, so hurt… like I'd done something wrong. And I know I've messed up, too."

"Stanley Marsh, if you can tell me _how_ it is you've messed up, maybe I'll believe you."

"Okay, well I… I just know I've messed up. I shouldn't have told him."

"And why not?"

I can't give her a response.

Wendy laughs quietly, urging me to another bite. "At least thinking in terms of you, telling him was probably a good thing. But what else could you have done? Even if you want to think about him, your options were to tell him the truth or keep it from him, the latter with him knowing of your lack of trust in him. Even to him, telling him would've been the least painful, so I think this is the right choice."

"You think him feeling hurt for me not trusting him is less than what he might feel from this, though?" I hang my head. "He confessed to me so long ago and I denied him, and now I can just walk in and take that all back? It's like I'm playing with his heart…."

"If that's how you see it, Stan…." Wendy sighs, gripping onto my arm. "I'm sure he won't hate you if you come out clean with him. I'm not guaranteeing a happy ending here, but I don't think he'll hate you or be angry with you for anything you've done."

I look her in the eye before shutting my eyelids. "Wendy… I hope you're right."

-

I return home that afternoon to find Kenny sitting idly at my desk. A quick glance over his shoulder tells me that he'd probably tried to start his homework at some point but had ultimately failed. Smirking at his failed effort, I throw my own things on top of the desk before crashing onto my bed.

Seconds later, after becoming lost in the galaxy of popcorn stars above me, Kenny joins my side. It feels comforting, to be honest, having a friend next to me, and even if neither of us is talking to the other, I feel at peace laying here. It's almost like my thoughts and feelings are being channeled from my conscience and into the sky above me, as if they leave my mind entirely for the moments I lose myself in the ceiling.

"Ken," I say quietly, eyes still focused on the ceiling. "I dunno if I've ever told you this. Maybe it's because you've basically started to live with me, or maybe it's because I've been talking to you a lot more about the happenings in my life lately. But… I feel like you've become a brother to me. I dunno, the brother I never had, someone I could always turn to… you know?"

Kenny doesn't say anything, but I have the strangest feeling that he's smiling—or if not smiling, then at least some positive action. The silence amongst us returns and for a moment we just lay there again, unmoving. But eventually, though neither of us wants to break the silence, the question in my mind prevails.

"Ken, do you… do you think I did the right thing? I mean, having told Kyle my realizations and all…. Wendy had said I'd done the right thing, but do you think so?"

I can feel him nodding. "Sure, Stan. I don't see why not."

"Then why do I feel so… empty about this? Why do I feel like I ended up with failure?" Yet again, Kenny gives no immediate reply. I'm not sure if it's because he needs to think about it or because he doesn't have an answer, but the silence this time is much more unsettling. Except this time, instead of acting on impulse to break the silence like I had last night, I simply wait it out.

Kenny replies eventually. "Stan, I hope you're not expecting results to occur overnight. People need time to think, people need time to change, things need time to occur."

"How long would I have to wait?"

I can feel Kenny giving his shoulders a shrug. "Depends on what it is, I guess. I suppose you'd have to follow through with it every so often just in case, but that aside you still have to give it some time."

"I see." I turn my head to him, though he's busy looking at the ceiling to notice me looking at him. "You sure?"

"Positive."

"All right… thanks." Another silence. "Hey Kenny, I was just curious, how's it going with you and Wendy?"

He distinctively chuckles. "Dude, it's not happening."

I frown. "Why not?"

"You think I could really compete with the drama you and Kyle have been putting up?" He gives a hearty laugh, and I'm not sure how exactly I'm supposed to take that. I know he's joking, but…. "But seriously, I dunno Stan, can't really find the right time, you know? Plus you two just broke up, I don't wanna be anyone's rebound or anything."

"You think Kyle will feel like that about me?" I ask suddenly. The thought never crossed my mind until just now, but… what _if_ Kyle really thought I was doing this because of Wendy?

"…it's possible," Kenny says with a sigh. "I won't deny it, he probably will. But that's why you follow through, see?"

"Yeah." I look once more at the ceiling, and I swear for a split second I make out the image of Kyle's head. "But really," I continue, "I think you're better off than me. I'm sure Wendy would love someone who could love her properly."

"Thanks Stan," Kenny says quietly. "…but I don't necessarily think you didn't love her properly. You just… loved someone more, in her eyes. That's all."

"You think so?" I ask, turning to him once more. "I… guess."

"Yeah." Some more silence. "I promise I won't hurt her, Stan. I'll take care of her."

"You better," I reply, giving him a light punch to the side. He punches me back, I hit him with my pillow, and before long we're engaging in a pillow fight. And the entire time my mind is thinking not of Kyle but instead of how I'm going to beat the living daylight out of Kenny.

Because I will win.

-

New day.

I can already tell it's going to be a very good day. It's almost obligatory, especially after having a good night's sleep and a wonderfully made breakfast. Why my mom decided to go all out this morning with making food I'm not sure really sure, but a part inside of me wants to believe that it's meant to be or something.

I certainly hope so. Though I'm not really sure what it is I'm doing today that requires being on the right foot, it's always encouraging to know that I'm doing something right. I'd like to talk to Kyle today, but if it's not the right time then I won't force it. I have the strange feeling Kenny's going to do something about Wendy today, too.

I think about all of this as I wait for Kenny to exit the house. The radio isn't on; I'm not quite in the mood. It's one of the rare moments I can actually hear myself think, let alone understand any of it. Besides, it won't be long before Kenny will want it on.

I wrote a letter early this morning on a whim, just in case all else fails. But I doubt I'll use it; my gut tells me that Kyle deserves better than a note. But a note would be so much better—it's not like Kyle initially told me in person, either. And sometimes I do wonder if we'd be having any of these problems if Kyle hadn't slipped up. Would I even… feel like this?—toward Kyle, that is. Or would I live happily ever after with Wendy or some other woman?—not implying that isn't my fate now, but….

If I were to talk to Kyle today, I honestly wouldn't have a clue how I'd do it. I know everything I need to tell him, just not how to go about doing it—eloquence was never my friend. Yet, at the moment, I don't even feel like thinking about it; ad lib sounds very appealing. Besides, I'm sure at this point it's impossible to make things worse; if things seem worse, it was probably already that way beforehand.

I also wish I knew how Kyle was feeling about all of this. Kenny and Wendy both gave me some interesting insights on how he might be feeling, most of which make me feel bad. I sincerely hope he doesn't have feelings akin to how the other two predicted them, but the chances of him having absolutely no problems with it is… well, not likely.

It's at this point that Kenny opens the door to my car, thus cutting off all trains of thought on my part. He gives me a weak smile before putting on his seatbelt, my cue for departure. I turn on the radio and set off to pick up Kyle, who's at least letting me pick him up still… meaning not all hope is lost. Though it's basically equivalent if he's ignoring my existence.

"At least you talk to Kyle," I tell Kenny, biting my lip. "I mean, so at least it isn't so quiet like yesterday?"

"Or, alternatively _you_ can talk to him."

"But…." I can feel Kenny's gaze upon me. It's not like I don't wanna talk to him, it's just that… it feels like he's the one that doesn't want to talk to me.

We get to Kyle's house without anything else of importance being said. Kyle's already ready, sitting on his driveway as we pull over to the side of his house. He gives a feeble wave, which I presume is directed to Kenny and not me, Nevertheless he does give both of us a good morning, which is indeed improvement from yesterday, so I don't complain.

The ride is still incredibly silent, however. Kenny decides not to facilitate conversation like I asked him to, and I guess because I'm too cowardly I decide not to talk either—and because of some reason I'm not sure of, Kyle doesn't talk either. Hence….

The only conversation that occurs is towards the end, as Kenny is looking through his things. "Kyle," he begins oh-so-very-slowly, which can only mean one thing. "I kinda… forgot to do my math homework again."

"Seriously, Kenny?" Kyle gasps with irritation. "Kenny, how do you forget stuff like that? What were you doing, exactly?"

…lying in bed with me. Though, as I pause to think about it, Kenny _did_ attempt it last night…. I have the feeling it's not that Kenny forgot about it, but that he doesn't understand it and thus wants to copy it for the grade….

"You know," I say slowly, hoping my hunch is right, "instead of copying Kyle's, why don't you just tell him you don't get it and need help?"

Both of them give me blank stares. Kenny's is more of a how'd-you-figure-that-out kinda stare, while Kyle's is more disbelieving.

"Why didn't you just say so?" asks Kyle, more irritation in the tone of his voice. "I'll explain it to you at lunch, all right?"

"Thanks," mutters Kenny, turning to me with a piercing glare. I merely shrug at him and smile weakly, all before pulling into a parking spot. Kenny mutters his thanks, both to me and to Kyle, and he immediately jets off. Where he's headed I'm not sure, but I have the strangest feeling that he's off to find Wendy. Just a hunch. And while on that hunch, I think he's angry at me because he was planning to do whatever he's doing now during lunch.

Today really does feel like a good day.

"I'll see you later," Kyle says quietly to me, also getting out of my car. I follow suit but not him. I do stare at his retreating form at first, debating if I too should get this over with now. After all, Kenny's manning up—I should be, too. And so I find my feet picking up to a run, my arm extending to his shoulder….

"Yes?" And I find myself feeling very stupid, catching my breath while holding onto Kyle's shoulder for support. Even if I knew what I wanted to say, I don't have the breath to say it.

Good going, Stan.

"I was just wondering…." Wondering?—no, more like… thinking. Maybe even demanding. "Can we… talk? Later? Maybe during lunch?"

"Can't, I have to help Kenny."

Oh… right.

"Come over after school?"

"Can't," Kyle says yet again, and I can tell he's listing off excuses at this point. Though, I do have to commend him for how quickly he's coming up with them… or maybe he's thought this through. "Kenny will be at your house, and if it's a talk you want then you'll have to do it with spectators."

"Fine." I grumble under my breath. "How about your place?"

"Can't," Kyle says yet again. "Mom's orders."

Yeah right.

"Stark's?"

"No, I ca—"

"And why fucking not?" I seethe, just about fed up with him now. "What fucking excuse do you have to not go to a public pond?"

Kyle shrugs. "The local fishing tournament starts at three in the afternoon, wouldn't want to get in their way."

Fucking… bullshit. Does Kyle have to be _this_ difficult? What happened to the Kyle of only a few days before, who was basically on his knees asking me to talk to him?—and now that I actually want to talk, suddenly he's closed the doors?

…because it hadn't been what he wanted to talk about…?

I check my watch. Twenty minutes until class starts. Good thing I always go to school early.

"Come," I demand, grabbing him by the sleeve. "We're doing this _now_." For some reason Kyle doesn't protest, letting me drag him along the halls as I try thinking of where to bring him. The hallways by the science building come to mind; no one ever goes there because it's too far away from the other buildings, and only kids taking biology really need to go there.

And so, the second we're halfway down the hall, I throw him against the wall and pin his shoulders to prevent him from escaping. "We're gonna do this as quickly as possible," I tell him, dropping the anger from my voice. And keep in mind: I still don't have a clue what I want to say.

He merely gives a silent nod… which doesn't really help with what I want to say. Yet again I feel like an idiot. And it only occurs to me now what position I've got Kyle in, how close our faces actually are to each other… and suddenly I feel the heat in my face rising, and I let go of him and turn away in embarrassment.

He doesn't leave. And when I turn back to him, he's also looking away shyly.

This isn't… awkward at all….

"Fine," I say, heaving a sigh. "I'll just do it as frankly as I can."

He only nods.

Damnit, I need something to go on!

…I feel like walking away—but after all this? I can't go back, now, can I?

"So basically," I begin, still feeling quite stupid at my inability to ad lib; "I like you. I know I'm a little late for coming to this realization, but… I like you."

No response.

"I'm sorry for kissing you the other day, too."

No response.

"You're probably angry at me."

No response.

"Kyle, talk to me."

Still no response.

I almost want to declare this hopeless. I've basically turned him into a living carcass. Can't say I didn't try, though. And so, giving one last sigh, I turn to leave.

He latches onto my arm.

I look at him, bewildered at what he's done, and suddenly I find myself unable to move. Not because he's finally responded, not because his grip on my arm is deathly, but because… his face….

"We do need to talk," he says simply, "but not here."

I nod slowly but understandingly. "Okay," I reply, glancing down at my arm. He hasn't let go.

"Do… do you really?"

"What?" I glance at my arm again. I feel like it's gotten tighter. "You think I'd lie about that?"

He shakes his head. "No, not really. It's just… are you sure?"

He lets go of my arm.

"Are you sure you really…." He makes some hand motions instead of finishing his sentence; they don't really look like anything in particular. "How do you know… that…?"

Suddenly, this all sounds a little too familiar.

…_you can like your best friend too, but from what you presented I don't see how you can conclude with anything more. Kyle's a close friend to you, perhaps too close, and all you've decided upon is that you shouldn't question how close he is to you…._

Was… was I really wrong? Had Craig been right?—no, he couldn't be, nor could Kyle, I… I felt sure of this. Everything Wendy and Kenny had said, and everything I'd deduced… it made more sense.

But… how to convey that to Kyle?

"I meant the kiss," I tell him, doing my honest best not to falter or stutter. "I promise you, I'm not playing with your heart. I'm not using you as a rebound to Wendy, or anything remotely of that nature." I take a step closer. "Do you believe me?"

I think one or two kids are watching us, but I don't really know them and it's honestly not that important.

"I… suppose," he mutters weakly.

I'm not convinced. I need a way to… _prove_ to him that I'm serious. But how…?

An idea comes to mind. "Hey, Kyle… after school today, maybe after I drop Kenny off…." His eyes widen, and I think he has an idea of what I'm going to say. "Do you wanna… maybe watch a movie? Or get something to eat? Or even if none of those, do you wanna—"

He puts a hand to my mouth and I stop talking. But now… he's smiling.

"As in to talk about our shit? Or as in—?"

"—a date," I finish, taking his hand from my mouth. "So do you wanna?"

Kyle laughs, shaking his head. "We need to talk. I'll leave it to you to call it whatever you want." He shakes his head again, and he gives me one meaningful glance before walking away.

…so he won't call it a date, huh?

I stand still for several moments, trying to process what just happened. This… _had_ to have been a good thing, right…? I mean… I have a date with Kyle… a date with… my best friend?

Oh right, if I wanted to call it a date. I forgot.

I grumble under my breath; cheeky bastard. I'm sure he wants it to be a date just as badly as I do. But we do still need to talk, if there's one thing he's right about. Though, all of that should've been done now… so I guess I failed in that department.

But still… I think everything's going to be all right.

I shove my hands into my pockets and begin walking to class. Enough of Kyle, I owe it to myself to focus in school for once.

…and then I stop. And I laugh.

Not because I can see the sky again.

But because I forgot to do my math homework, too.

* * *

_Posted: July 19th, 2009._

_...aka two days ago. Chapter 27's already finished too. I've been doing nothing but writing, since apparently I'm most productive when I'm feeling sick. However, that means more reading for you guys! _

_I liked this chapter, and I hope you did too.  
_

_As I said earlier, this really quick update is to prove to some of you that I'm updating more seriously now, and that I won't go missing for another nine months again. We ARE approaching the last ten chapters of the story, perhaps fewer depending on my mood. So stick around for the ending!_

_And yeah, I only got two reviews last chapter, which partly depressed me. And yeah, blah blah, I only waited two days. Still, I don't mind AS much as I used to (kinda), but just remember that reviews do give me miracles, so even if you have the simplest thing (or even the harshest) to tell me it'd make my day._

_Chapter 27 to come, not as quickly as this one. It's also much shorter, but you'll see why when it comes out... or follow my Twitter, lol._

_Until next time,_

_G. A.  
_


	27. Rendezvous

I feel like the tone of this story has changed significantly since I started writing. I'm not sure if it's a good or bad thing, and maybe it's more appropriate now since things are starting to lighten up. Of course, it's probably because my writing style then was so different compared to now… but I hope it doesn't cause any inconveniences. It's also very dialogue-heavy, which I like but maybe some of you might not.

Enjoy the show.

* * *

_Rendezvous_

It's during lunch, as I'm furiously copying Kyle's math homework, when I feel a tapping on my shoulder.

It's Craig.

I'm not sure why this surprises me, or why suddenly I get this sinking feeling in my stomach. He doesn't quite have the 'I-hate-your-gut' glare like in the days of old, but his face is stern and serious enough to make a clown want to quit his job. Really, the only relieving thing of this all is how cute Kyle's being about his appearance.

"Ignore him," Kyle mutters, tapping his homework. "You need to get this done."

"Stan," Craig says simply, turning to Kyle. "Can I borrow your boyfriend for a moment?"

I turn a deep red. "He's not my—"

"He's finishing his homework," Kyle replies back, and I'm almost positive I can feel the anger in his voice. "Doesn't have the time, really. Try again later?"

"I could always tell the teacher he's copying it," Craig says rather smugly, which of course catches both of our attentions. "Then it wouldn't be worth anything, _and_ I'd be killing three birds with one stone."

I sigh, shaking my head. "Give it up, Craig."

Kyle blinks as he watches me stand up. "Stan…?"

"I'll be quick," I reply with a nod, smiling. Is Kyle being… protective? "Anyway," I add, now turning to Craig, "we will be quick, won't we?"

Craig shrugs. "Sure." I wave to Kyle and Kenny before following Craig to his table. Or at least, that had been my first instinct at where we were headed. Turns out, I find myself walking out of the cafeteria doors and coming to a stop in an empty hallway.

"Have you told him yet?" Craig asks simply, and I don't need telling twice what he's referring to.

"Yeah," I say slowly, nodding with the same pace. "We're talking about it more this afternoon. I don't think it's taking a turn for the worse, though."

He scoffs at my smile. "Lucky, then. Congrats."

I almost want to sputter at his greeting, but instead I raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Don't look at me like that," he replies hastily, turning away. "Just… congrats that everything worked out well."

"I… see." I give a weak nod as my thanks. "So then… you and Tweek…?"

Craig laughs. "Yeah, right, like that's going to get resolved anytime soon."

"Care to—?"

"Nope," he interjects, and I shrug; it was worth a shot. "Don't really feel like talking about it, really." Though, with that shot down, I'm not really sure why Craig's called me out. What else would he want to talk about?

When I voice these thoughts to him, he merely laughs. "To congratulate you, why else?"

"That's it?" I give him a curious look. "You sure…?"

"You don't believe me? Did you think it was something to do with Tweek?" I nod slowly, to which he shakes his head. "I just didn't want embarrass Kyle, that's all."

"You had no problems with calling me his boyfriend just now," I remind him pointedly.

"So?"

"You confuse me," I conclude.

"I know."

Silence.

"…and I'm going back to finish my homework."

"All right."

Smiling, I give Craig a light pat on his shoulder. "You're obviously keeping something from me, but maybe it's for the best. Good luck with Tweek, and please don't rat me out."

It's only as I'm gripping the doors to the cafeteria when I hear his faint reply: "I won't."

Craig's… definitely a weird guy.

-

For something I suggested, and for something I actually thought I would like, the end of the day actually comes to me as quite a scary thought. Throughout my last class I sat in my seat, thinking of nothing except what exactly I was going to do. It had kinda been an improvisation, this whole doing something after school thing, and I didn't have the slightest clue what he'd even want to do.

Even now, waiting for Kyle and Kenny at my car, my mind was swarming with ideas. Some sort of meal was inevitable, yet it was definitely a little early for dinner; maybe a movie would pass enough time? Or maybe he'd want to go bowling—but who bowled at three in the afternoon? Or maybe it's just me who thinks bowling is more of a night activity?

In my mind I know it's probably best to just let it all happen. But I can't help but to think about it anyway.

"Hey," a familiar voice greets me, and as I turn around I'm glad it's not the other familiar voice I had in mind.

"Hey Ken."

"Kyle not here yet?" he asks innocently, and he frowns when I choke at his words. "Oh come on, Stan, I thought you sorted that out already?"

"Kinda," I reply simply. The last thing I need is Kenny egging me on and embarrassing me. Even if it isn't really a date. "Speaking of which," I continue, "have you figured out what you're doing with Wendy?"

"Yes, _mother_."

"Really?" I ask, earning yet another frown from Kenny. "And don't give me that Ken, I'm just curious."

"Too curious, especially about your ex-girlfriend." He punches me playfully in the side, and I just give a laugh. "We talked, I guess. I asked her if she wanted to go do something this afternoon."

"And she said yes?" I ask, and Kenny's just laughing at my curiosity. But it's not like I'm not allowed to care about two of my friends, right?—besides, it's not like Wendy's the psycho-bitch ex-girlfriend type….

When Kenny's laughter dies down, he opens his mouth to answer me, but it's not his voice that speaks next.

"Sorry for keeping you, Stan." My eyes widen, and as I turn I find none other but Kyle, also standing against my car. It's not like there should even be something special about this, yet simply by his presence I find my heartbeat picking up, my breaths coming in shorter intervals….

"Hey Kyle," I mutter quietly, returning my gaze to Kenny. "You ready?"

Kenny gives me a disapproving sigh before nodding, and with that we pile into my car. By Kenny's will Kyle's seated next to me, which reminds me to kill him next opportunity I get. But it's going to be even worse when I have to drop Kenny off first… at my own house.

As if sensing my concerns, Kyle begins to ask, "You think you could drop me off first, Stan? I wanna get out of these clothes."

"Yeah, sure," is my reply. "That all right with you, Ken?"

"What other way would you do it?" Kenny asks, and laughing I slap my head. Except, if Kenny knew what we were going to do, then maybe he'd know why Kyle said that….

The song on the radio changes at that moment, and as a silence breaks between us the words fill my car. It's some sort of sappy love song, as deduced based off the lyrics, and if it weren't for the good beat I would've switched the station.

"Isn't that cute," I say mockingly after a time. "He feels warm with her hand in his as they walk along the shoreline."

"Do you think they're already together?" Kenny pipes in. "The girl in the chorus keeps saying if they'd wish they'd fall in love."

"I think they are," Kyle says weakly. "Just listen to the whole chorus, Ken."

"Do sparrows not migrate or something?" Kenny asks again, changing the topic. "I think this winter I'll try looking for sparrows. But do we even have sparrows in Colorado?"

…I think Kenny's taken to analyzing that song a little too seriously. And I'm almost glad when the song changes and we arrive at Kyle's house.

"See you in a bit," Kyle says with a nod, and the door shuts. I sigh, putting the car on reverse, but when I look behind my shoulder to back up I find Kenny's grinning face blocking my vision completely.

"Yes…?"

"See you in a bit, huh?" Kenny repeats, and he's grinning like a madman. "Stan, what a beast! Why didn't you tell me sooner? We could have made this a double date!"

"It's not a date," I mutter weakly. At least, Kyle said it wouldn't be. All we were really after was to talk…. "Now let me drive us home, Ken."

"…fine."

-

Upon arriving home I'd received a text message from Kyle saying he'd walk over to mine, and so I'd remained home. At first I'd been bored out of my mind, my worries and thoughts getting the best of me, but within five minutes Kenny began to insist I change my clothes and pick out something nicer—and since it indeed passed time more quickly than sitting on my couch, I agreed to it.

Thus is how I find myself standing in the middle of my room, wearing nothing save my underwear and a white undershirt. And to be honest, I sincerely hope Shelley does not take a peak into my room, because the last thing I really need is her sniggering at having a guy dress me.

"Try this," Kenny yells at me for maybe the third time this afternoon, throwing a bunch of clothes at me. I recognize the shirt as the blue-collared one I'd bought over a year ago, so I instantly toss it back.

"That's an old shirt. It'll be too small."

"Fine, but try the pants." I look at the pair of jeans in my hands, and internally I hope these aren't the tight-fitting jeans Wendy had given me….

…and just my luck, they are.

"Looking fine, Stan," Kenny says with a snigger. "Definitely will get Kyle's attention with that."

"Shut up," I mumble, shaking my head. "Hey, do you think the red t-shirt would be all right?"

"Uh…." Kenny frowned, rummaging through my closet. "Which one?—there're lots."

"The one with the baseball on it." It takes a while for Kenny to find it, granted the majority of my shirts are either red or blue. He does find it though, and I ignore the scowling face he gives me.

"At least with a collar, Stan, I'm sure you wanna look nice, right?"

I shrug. "Kyle gave me that shirt for my birthday last year so I thought it'd be appropriate. But if you insist—"

"—no, that'll work," Kenny said, eyes gleaming with the same something ever since he found out my plans. "Now you've really got both of Kyle's on you, Stan!"

"Ken… remember it's not a date."

"Of course," Ken says, waving it off. I don't think he's going to believe me anytime soon. "Anyway, I've got my own date to prepare for, so I'll leave you be."

"So she did say yes?" I ask, having forgotten about it until only now. "That's… great, Ken!"

"You sure?" he asks, frowning. "You aren't mad or jealous or anything, are you?"

I shrug. It only then occurs to me that though I've given him my approval of going after Wendy, I hadn't given him the reason for our breakup. Not that it was anything important at the time, and I'm sure he would've felt guilty one way or another if he knew; but even if I've said many times that I'm fine with it he still insists on asking me over and over again.

"Don't really have a reason to be, you know," I tell him. "You can ask her yourself, anyway. I'm sure it'll give you loads to talk about… though it's an awkward thought to think that you might be talking about me on your date."

"As long as you're okay with it," Kenny says with a half smile, and then he grabs his bags and heads for the bathroom. I stand still for several moments before fetching the shirt and pulling it over my head. I head to my closet to find a jacket to wear over my t-shirt, and after I pick out a blue windbreaker I hear the faint ringtone of my phone.

I rush to my phone, but by the time I reach it I've missed the call. I hit the call back button as I curse under my breath, hoping Kyle doesn't become angry at me for having missed his call….

…except I hear anything but Kyle's voice on the other line.

"Hey Stan."

I'm caught of guard, and in my disbelief I check the display on my phone. Surely enough, it's Wendy, not Kyle. "Wends, hey sorry, I thought Kyle had called me, so I wasn't expecting your voice."

"That explains it," she says, and I think she's laughing. "Anyway, Kyle, eh?"

"Shut it," I mumble into the receiver. "What'd you call for?"

"I was wondering if Ken's told you about…."

"Yeah," I tell her. "He has. He's pretty happy about it. You aren't leading him on, are you Wends?" But her lack of immediate response wipes the slight grin of my face, and I shut my eyes in disappointment. "Wendy…?"

"I don't know," she says. "I'm just seeing how things go. It's only the first date anyway, if it doesn't work, it doesn't work."

I sigh in relief. "All right, thanks. But if you're not interested, you promise to end it? Kenny doesn't need anymore hurt as is."—and it only occurs to me after I've said it that Wendy probably has no idea of his problems at home, and I certainly don't want to be the one to tell her. Hopefully, she doesn't interrogate.

"Yeah, of course. I'm just"—but a beeping sound interrupts her, and as I pull the phone away to check the display on my phone I find Kyle's name in bold, happy letters.

"Kyle's calling, Wends, I'll call you later."—and without waiting for a response I switch calls. "Hey Kyle."

"Stan, I'm outside your door. You want me to come in, or are you on your way out."

"You can come up," I tell him. "I don't really know what we're gonna do anyway, so we can talk about it here… among other things."

"All right." And he hangs up, without even a goodbye. But as I put down my phone it occurs to me that Kenny's still in the house, and I'm almost guaranteed to be humiliated in one way or another. But there isn't really any time to dwell on it too much, because within seconds my door opens wide.

"Still here?" Kenny asks, walking in with nothing but a towel. He sets his bag to the side of the room where it once was, and as my eyes linger on I began to wonder why exactly he needed that bag—it's not like he changed into anything anyway. "Do you mind if I borrow a shirt for tonight? Your shirts look a lot nicer than mine do."

"Wendy will know you're wearing my shirt," I tell him frankly. "If you don't mind, then go for it." Kenny gives a shrug, and just as he tells me to not bother, my door opens yet again—and this time it _is_ Kyle. But I swear it's like the third time today I've been expecting Kyle but don't actually get him on the first instance.

"Hey Stan, you—"

I laugh as he gawks at Kenny.

"I'm flattered, Kyle," Kenny says, walking back over to the bag he'd just dropped. I immediately notice he's lowered his towel just a little bit, yet it's just enough to where he's definitely revealing a lot more than he was when he first walked in. And of course, I know he's doing it just to mess with Kyle… and maybe me too.

"P-put a shirt on," Kyle mutters, looking away. It's obvious that Kyle thinks it's attractive, even though Kenny's quite scrawny. But regardless of that, there's basically still a half-naked blue-eyed sex-craved boy in front of him, and for Kyle I suppose that'd be enough to get his attention.

"Give me time, I'm working on it," Kenny then turns to me, and whatever it is he sees his face suddenly lights up. "I'm sorry I'm not Stan though, I'm sure you'd appreciate that more. I know Stan would."

Kyle chokes, and I throw my nearest pillow at him—and then for a split second I hope that doesn't cause his towel to drop. But Kenny merely dodges the pillow and smirks at me, and all is well once more.

"Don't blame me; the guy was basically scowling at me." Kenny laughs, putting a shirt on. But… was I really scowling? "Anyway, I'll leave you to your date."

"It's _not_ a date!" Kyle and I scream simultaneously, which more or less shocks Kenny.

"No need to be so aggressive, children," he says with a smile. "Besides, we're not in Egypt, so you both should probably stop living in denial."

Deadpan.

"We're going," I mumble, pulling Kyle with me. I swear I hear Kenny's laughter as we leave my room, which is then drowned out by Sparky's barking, and then yet again by Shelley's voiced irritation from her room. It's only when we've left my house when I let go of him, and I give him my apologies.

"It's all right," Kyle says shyly, and it's cute how red his face has suddenly become. "And, err, off the record…."

"Yeah?" I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me once again.

"I… prefer you over him," he mumbles.

"I know." And I really did know that.

"I mean… the towel thing…."

"I know." And I really didn't know that.

Thanks for red rocketing my ego, Kyle.

-

"Remember, we're only going out to talk."

"I know. I've got it planned out."

"You said you didn't."

"I have it down now. We'll do it at the end of the night."

"You plan on staying out the whole night?"

"Well… yeah?"

"…I'm not sure my mom will approve."

"Just relax, Kyle. Let me do the worrying."

"…fine."

-

"Movies are boring, but they're only made for two reasons, aren't they?"

"What reasons?"

"Ogling hot celebrities and cuddling with your next door neighbor."

"Stan, do you think anyone there is remotely attractive?"

"Of course, doesn't every guy have an obligation to say Megan Fox is—?"

"Not me."

"Oh I see. Please don't tell me you're more for that other guy."

"Nah, don't like hi—"

"BE QUIET!"

Silence. "Sorry, kid with the hair. Stan started it."

"Hey Kyle, wanna just stick to the second reason then?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

-

"Did you do this on purpose?"

"Do what?"

"Having dinner at the same place as Kenny and Wendy?"

"I think Ken's the one who did that on purpose."

"He's looking at us."

"Ignore him."

"He's kissing Wendy."

"He's _what_?!"

"Made you look."

"Kyle… that wasn't funny… nor called for."

"Sorry."

-

"Why'd you freak out so much? Do you still like Wendy?"

"As I'm sitting here on a date with you? Is that even a legit question?"

"It's not a date, and she broke up with you. You might like her, I wouldn't know."

"And everything that happened this morning was just a joke and that I really didn't mean 'I like you' when I said it, right? Come on, Kyle."

"Now they're both looking at us."

"Wanna give them a show, then?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

-

"You're acting like Kenny, Stan."

"Just one bite? I'm a hopeless romantic Kyle: This is where we feed each other bites and stuff!"

"On the first date? I don't think so."

"So you agree that it's a date?"

"…shut up, Stan."

-

"They're leaving. Stan."

"Finally. I'm gonna kill Kenny when I get home."

"Kenny's pelvic thrusting."

"I'm gonna torture the kid, and _then_ kill his ass."

"Even though his dad already does?"

"…low blow, Kyle."

"Oh… right. Sorry."

-

"And we're here!" I stop shielding Kyle's eyes as I take a step back, letting him take in his new surroundings.

"…Stark's Pond…?"

"Yeah. How else to end a great night by skipping stones under the moonlight?" He laughs, shaking his head at me as he steps toward me.

"Best of five?"

I smirk. "You're on."

And of course, I lose. I'm almost positive Kyle cheats with his stones. But as long as he's happy, I don't mind losing.

-

At long last, as we lay by the pond's side, and as the silence around us settles in, we arrive at the point I'm sure both of us have been dreading to come. And the chance that it might ruin the smiles and laughs of the evening is quite the scary thought, but though I promise Kyle I'd get to it….

After all, it's not a date. It's a reason for us to talk.

"I've already told you everything this morning," I tell him, breaking the silence. "Or at least, I think I did, because this morning feels like so long ago I don't even remember what I said. But… I promise I'm not lying to you. I really do wanna give this a shot, Kyle."

He says nothing, and he's biting his lip. I can't tell in the dusk if he's upset, but he's clearly not happy as he once was.

Fuck.

"Kyle…?" And I don't know why it comes to me, but in an instance I scoot myself over to him, placing my left arm around him, and bringing him to me. "Kyle, listen, this talking thing isn't going to work and we both know it. What's there to talk about?—why can't we accept this night for what it should have been, a date, and leave it at that? There's obviously shit between us that tears us apart, but I think if we just…"—I struggle for the right way to phrase what I want to say next—"…if we just turn a blind eye to it, if we look at the better things… maybe things won't be so bad…?

"So I wanted to start off on the right foot, or basically starting over." I get up and face him, and he gives me the most peculiar look. I extend my hand to him. "My name's Stan."

He looks at me like I've lost my head. "What?"

I close my eyes. "We're gonna start this on the right foot, Kyle. Please?"

Kyle shakes his head. "You… _do_ know you're going on the assumption that I actually like you still, right? That I want this to work too."

I freeze. Suddenly thoughts flood my mind again, and within seconds my mind is thrown for a rollercoaster in my own conscience. Had Kyle really moved on?—hadn't he said so some time ago, though? Or maybe he simply turned—

But before I'm too lost in my thoughts Kyle's laughter pierces through them, and I can't help but glare at Kyle incredulously as he pulls himself off the ground to meet me. He shakes his head at me, and I resist my urge to slap him across the face as he closes the distance between us. I swear, he has to have the tightest embraces I've ever—

Something's still wrong. I look at Kyle, who's now resting his head on my shoulder. I can't see his face, yet even though he's laughing… why is my shoulder wet?

"Kyle…?"—and as he pulls away, the moonlight illuminates his face. And he really is crying.

* * *

_Posted: July 23rd, 2009._

_Please don't get used to my super quick updates recently. I'm still trying to convince certain readers out there to not lose hope in me, and so I think that having put forth three chapters in a week should be convincing enough. I might also put the chapter that was SUPPOSED to be this one up fairly soon._

_Please review. Even if it's like: Dear Genis Aurion, My favorite part of the chapter was (blank), and I really think (blank). Sincerely yours, (name). It lets me know how you all feel and think about this piece, and again it really does make my day, especially on days I come home from work._

_Until next time,_

_-G. A.  
_


	28. Interlude

This interlude is nowhere near the middle of the story (see end chapter notes), but I figured I might as well do it now before it's too late. It's really short, but it's only an interlude after all. The purpose was to give some insight, but otherwise there are no major plot points revealed (we're near the end anyway, why introduce new plot points?). Also note the different narrative and time frame.

Enjoy!

* * *

_Interlude_

Today's my seventeenth birthday.

I have mixed feelings about it. Most, however, point in the positive direction. For example, I do have this 'yippee-it's-my-birthday' sentiment going on, and that feels good. I also have some 'we're-almost-done-with-the-school-year' sentiment, which is also good. But there's always something that counteracts good things, like the 'why-is-my-mom-making-me-host-a-party' feeling, or the 'we-still-have-one-more-year-to-go-anyway' sentiment.

Joy.

I'm helping my mom clean up the house for the party. It's a really small party, to be honest. Some relatives are flying in from all over the place, and among them only my cousin Kyle is remotely close to my age. I also invited Stan, Wendy and Kenny, just to keep me sane. But otherwise, it's going to be pretty boring of a party.

In this house, it's always everything for the mother. Even Ike, who's adopted into the family, has to do as she says. Basically, my dad's her personal assistant, Ike's her servant, and I'm her slave. And so, even if it's _my_ birthday, I still have to do things to her liking. Even if I have a project or two to finish, I'm stuck making decorations for a party that doesn't even feel like mine anymore.

"Kie-yole," she begins again, shaking her head. "I said to cut those with the patterned scissors, not the straight scissors!" To clarify, they're ribbons, which already have curvy and patterned edges along the longer length. So she's actually nagging me about how I cut the ribbons along its width, which won't be seen anyway since they'll be bunched up by tape anyway.

"Yes, mom." I mutter, rolling my eyes.

"Don't give me that look!" she shrieks, and she turns away. "The nerve, after everything I do for you…."

…without asking me if I'd actually like it….

It's going to be a long day.

-

Stan and Wendy are the first people to arrive, not including the relatives that flew in yesterday.

"Hey Kyle, why so spent?" Stan adds this amazing smile to his greeting, and I think my insides melt. Yeah, I guess you can say I have a small crush on my best friend. But I won't go into how perfect his hair is, or how perfect his smile is, or how nice the rest of him looks, or how perfect he is in general. Though he is a little forgetful and not too bright at times (his common sense tends to walk out on him sometimes), he's still otherwise perfect. And he's my best friend. And I have a hopeless crush on him.

The thing is, see, Wendy's his girlfriend.

Yeah.

"See all that?" I ask, turning my finger in a circle to indicate the decorations. "Yeah, all me."

"Wow," Stan says quietly, taking a moment to look at my work. "Child labor much?"

I nod quietly.

"Anyway," he continues, handing me a roughly wrapped box. "Happy birthday, Kyle."

"Thanks," I reply gratefully, and then I turn to Wendy. She gives me an awkward smile before handing me her present. "Thanks," I repeat. See, Wendy and I haven't really been in the best of terms. I don't really know why, either; I seriously doubt it has anything to do with both of our wants to be the valedictorian. And to be honest, I doubt it has anything to do with me liking Stan either, because I haven't told a soul and there's no way she'd know about something like that.

At that point my relatives descend the stairs from Ike's room, and with a reminding glance from my mom I'm forced to greet and entertain them. I hold the most random conversations with them, anything from the weather (it's evening) to my grades in school. Of course, it satisfies them since they don't know anything about schooling or the weather in Colorado, but it's rather boring and uneventful on my part.

Kenny arrives sometime later, but it really isn't of much significance, save the fact that he's definitely underdressed compared to everyone else. But who can blame him?

Then comes dinner, which is nothing surprising. I don't expect Wendy to eat half the stuff my mom's made, but to my surprise she does anyway. Stan pigs on it, as always, since he claims to love my mom's cooking—though sometimes I beg to differ. And Kenny pigs more than Stan does, but no one minds or is surprised.

After that comes gift opening, which means the party's gonna end soon. I'm glad time's passing a lot faster than I thought it would, because I'm honestly sick of this party already—though I definitely did call that one. I watch as everyone makes a big deal out of sitting around me in a circle, and then I sigh when my mom insists she squeeze herself somewhere where she can actually take pictures of me opening gifts.

I start with all the cards. I cleverly start with Kenny's, since I don't expect anything in it except a card—and I'm right. Not that I blame the guy; I should probably be giving _him_ money. Then I move on to my uncle's, which holds two twenties and a ten; Kenny's face definitely falls.

Then my aunt from New York gives me a hundred dollar bill, which is when I decide that my seventeenth birthday must have some hidden significance I'm not aware of… or maybe they're just unnecessarily rich.

My parents' card holds a fifty dollar gift card to Barnes and Noble, which by the way is in the next city over.

All that's left is Wendy's and Stan's present. I open Wendy's first, assuring Stan I'm saving the best for last when I see his frowning face. Turns out, she gets me a book.

I laugh when I flip it over to see its title: "Salutatorian: How to Settle for Second."

I turn to her and give her my thanks. I laugh, and she laughs. Except I think she's serious by giving me this book.

Finally, I open Stan's. Inside the box is a card with a twenty neatly tucked inside, and next to the card is a baseball. I look first at the card, flashing it at my mother first as she takes the picture. Then, silently, I read it to myself.

_All the best, birthday boy! Hope you get everything you wished for! –Stan _

…which obviously won't happen, of course, since it's likely I won't get Stan himself.

Finally, I turn to the other item in the box. Slowly I lift it up, hold it up for my mom to take a picture, and then hold it to the light. There's a signature on it, and for a second I think it might be Stan's. I can almost see it now…. "For when I go pro."

Only, when I take a close glance at it, I realize it couldn't possibly be his….

"Who's…?" I peer at the baseball again; "…who's Tom Glavin?"

Stan just laughs.

-

Sometime later that evening, I notice Stan and Wendy have left. Possibly just curious because Stan left without saying bye, I go check from the living room curtains to see if his car is still here.

Yeah it is.

But the light's on.

Curious, I sneak out the back of my house, making sure my mom doesn't see me and thus ruining my cover. I'm as subtle as I can be, peering around the corner of my house, all until the lights in Stan's car are much closer, until I can see what's inside.

Yep. They're making out.

I begin to run. I run without a sense of direction, and I run as quietly as I can so I'm not seen—though they're too distracted to notice me anyway. And I don't plan on running farther than my breath will let me. But I still run.

I pass our high school, then the old elementary school… and a sudden thought comes to me. Illegal or not, I run onto the elementary school grounds, past the swings, into the familiar opening of the woods….

I think I trip on a root, but I don't mind.

I catch my breath once I come to the familiar clearing in the woods. The flowers, barely abloom, the hill…

I remember when Stan and I went here the first time. We were so… naïve back then, and to be honest I doubt we even understood what we were saying—I barely remember now what we'd said. Stan tells me I sounded like a mafia member, plotting everyone's death but our own.

Ha, Stan….

I wonder if he remembers any of this….

He's not doing anything wrong.

He's putting Wendy before him.

What does that matter? He's her boyfriend.

She's his girlfriend.

Is Wendy his new best friend?

Should that matter?

Am I still his best friend?

You know for a fact this has nothing to do with friendship.

You wish you were Wendy, don't you?

You wish you were in the lead for valedictorian.

You wish it were your mouth Stan was ravishing.

You wish Stan were—

No.

I look up to the sky. It's a peaceful sky. The stars seem brighter here than back at my house. Maybe it's because the lights of civilization don't mask the starlight.

The words of my conscience echo through me another time, and I begin to taste salty tears running down my face. Stan can't ever see me like this. He can't know how I feel about him. He can't know what he does to me. I can't ever tell him.

I can't tell him because it'll ruin our friendship.

Because I'll lose him.

-

I ignore my mom's interrogations upon returning home, and even though Kenny and the other guests are still downstairs, I ignore them and lock myself in my room.

I peer outside my room; Stan and Wendy have left.

Sighing, I turn to my computer. It's always left on; I use it often enough anyway, what's the point in wasting time to turn it off and on again?—that aside, I pull open my email and begin writing Stan an email.

It's a simple email, really. Thanking Stan for the baseball, asking him where he and Wendy went—even though I have a vague idea. To make the email seem not as useless, I throw in wanting to tell him something… though in reality it's quite the opposite, and telling him something is actually the last thing I want to do.

I hit send after reading it several times through. Stan never checks his email anyway, so there's always the thrill in guessing how long it'll take him to reply. We both know the best way of communication is by our cell phones, only because Stan actually brings his with him everywhere. Occasionally instant messaging can be reliable, but only when we're both on computers.

So why did I send him that email then…? I'm not really sure, to be honest.

But I have the feeling that, though I have the definite 'I'll-never-tell-Stan-that-I-love-him' sentiment, I'm going to end up telling him eventually. And furthermore, I almost know I'll tell him in an email. Not necessarily because I know it'll take him forever to actually read it, but because I could never pull it off in person.

Because it'll ruin our friendship. Because I love Stan, but Stan loves Wendy. Because it was never meant to be.

But I'm only slightly hopeful, enough to possibly tell him eventually. Expecting nothing, because he has Wendy. But hopeful enough that there's a chance he'll at least understand me.

The odds are against me, with maybe only two percent in my favor. But if two percent decides to be what wins me my future, I'm sure the only thing I'll be doing is crying.

But until then, those leaves will never bloom. And I—I too will refuse to bloom.

* * *

_Posted: July 25th, 2009.  
_

_I liked the last chapter more. This chapter has a distinct taste of filler.  
_

_**I'm making an executive decision**: WNLB will end at thirty chapters. I really love writing this and it's a pity to end, but… there's no point in prolonging the story if almost all of the story's major plot points have been resolved. This being said, I think I'm starting to accept that 500 reviews may be too far of a milestone… but it was worth a try, right? :(  
_

_Chapter 29 will be posted on August 3rd, and Chapter 30 will be posted on August 17th (the two-year anniversary of this story). Please keep an eye out for these updates!  
_

_Reviews are still nice. Especially if you want to throw at me your throes of appreciation or deep-fueled anger before the story comes to a close. And since that template seemed to work, here's another one if you need it: Dear Genis Aurion, I am (sad/thrilled) to see this story come to a close. I think this Interlude was (blank). Next chapter I would really like to know (blank). Sincerely yours, (name).  
_

_- G. A.  
_


	29. Resolutions

Posted early, because I love all of you and I wanted to show you my appreciation for reading and reviewing.

But ahhh, I'm so saddened! This is the last chapter, minus the epilogue. I wrote several versions for this chapter and liked this one best. Hopefully it's satisfactory.

Though I had some serious focus issues and absences, I managed to pull through. Thanks to everyone for supporting me until now. I appreciate everyone that's read this story and taken something from it, and I'm glad it made some of you happy reading it. I'm happy that so many of you reviewed too, because reviews make me a happy person and are the sole reason I was able to persevere through this. Though I'll never get to 500 (sad face), I'm glad I made it this far… though, if I _do_ make it to 500, I'll gladly write a one-shot of the 500th reviewer's choice to show my appreciation.

Thanks again to everyone, and here is your final(ish) chapter!

* * *

_Resolutions_

"_I'm just… happy, that's all."_

Those words ring through my head as I stare into the moon-reflecting pond before us. Kyle's head is rested in my lap, his light snores floating peacefully into my ears. Though it's dark, I can still make out his rising and falling figure, but more importantly the sleepy grin plastered on his face.

Kyle's definitely happy, and it makes me happy seeing it. For once that mouth isn't yelling at me, nor is it open from shock. It isn't even bitten shut from anxiety or making angry sighs at our mistakes. Seeing it smiling—and only smiling—almost makes me feel relieved, as if I've atoned for everything I've done to this point. Even though I may've not done anything wrong necessarily, at least my mind's at ease.

It does make me a little uneasy, though. Informally speaking, Kyle's been wanting this for a long while, and he's been doing quite a bit of waiting and making sure not to ruin that outcome—even if he thought he had done so for a time. And me… well, I only started wanting it recently… or at least compared to Kyle—and I didn't have to do as much to get here, except maybe grow some nerve. So in that regard, it does seem a little unfair what Kyle had to go through compared to me. It's almost like I waited longer just so I wouldn't have to do so much… or even worse, it's almost like I did this just to make him happy.

…and of course that isn't true at all, and I doubt Kyle would really think that either. But it does bug me still, and it's indeed a possibility.

I look back to Kyle, who's still sleeping on my lap. With my free hand I dig my phone out of my pocket; it's about ten thirty at night, which means it's probably time to go home. But even though I don't want to wake Kyle up from his nap, his mom will more than likely yell at him if he doesn't get home soon.

With a sigh, I ease his head onto the grass and let myself up. I think he makes some sort of mumbling as I crouch down to pick him up. He's a lot heavier than I'd expected, but it's perhaps just that it's a lot later at night and I'm fairly exhausted myself.

I carry him all the way back to my car, which admittedly does take some time—I apparently need to work on my upper body strength more. I ease him into the back seat of my car, making sure he at least looks comfortable before I close the door on him. Then, I climb into the driver's seat and begin our way home.

On the ride home my mind flashes with the memories of the things I'd just done. We'd first watched a movie, which we both found to be rather overrated and boring. But all the sexual themes prevalent had been funny because it'd been an excuse to make Kyle uncomfortable; yeah, I know, too much Kenny influence. And I would not be surprised if Kenny had been at that movie too, especially since he had somehow managed to go to the restaurant we were headed to, too. And then, lastly but not least, there had been the pond….

They would be quick to escape my head I'm sure, but… I really do cherish those memories. And I think it reassures me that I am doing the right thing, that any doubts I may've had up until now were not really founded.

After a few more minutes of driving I arrive at Kyle's house. It takes all of my remaining effort to take him out of my car, to carry him to the front door, and then to hold him while trying to ring the doorbell.

Kyle murmurs something in his sleep yet again, and he leans his head onto my chest. It's very… cute.

I sincerely hope that it's Ike who answers the door, but since my expectations in this situation always seem to be wrong the first time, it's Mrs. Broflovski that appears at the doorway.

"Hello Stanley," she says courteously, stepping aside so I can enter through. "I was just getting worried about my Kie-yole, too."

"Sorry about him coming home so late," I say politely, trying to hold onto him for a bit longer as I head up the stairs; Mrs. Broflovski follows me.

"He's come home later," she says, waving it off. "Though he really should have called!"

"Yeah, sorry about that." I enter his room and place him gently on his bed. He gives a low mumble, but otherwise nothing really audible.

"Thanks for bringing him home," his mom says with a grateful smile, and then she leaves. I look to Kyle, who still seems to not have woken up yet. Smiling at his sleeping form, I lean down and scruff his hair playfully.

"Good night Kyle," I whisper into his ear, giving his head one final pat.

I think he says something under his breath, but I don't quite catch it.

-

Kenny's already waiting for me when I return to my room, and I honestly dislike the expression he's wearing on his face.

"About time," he laughs, giving me the thumbs up. "Got him done, did you?"

"No," I reply, turning away in embarrassment. "So when did you get back?"

"Right after dinner," is his reply. "Remember Stan, some of us don't have the pleasure of driving everywhere. We walked everywhere."

"Ah, right." Sometimes I wonder if I'm really the only one with a car. I know why Kyle doesn't have one, and it's pretty obvious Kenny wouldn't have one since he's poor. But why doesn't Wendy or anyone else have a car? I mean sure, living in such a small town you really wouldn't need a car to get to all the essentials, but….

"Hey Ken, I just thought of something. How'd you pay for your dinner?"

For some reason Kenny turns a deep red to this. "Oh, well uh… Wendy paid for me."

I choke on my tongue. "_What_? Wends paid for you?"—granted she rarely paid whenever we went on dates, I find this piece of news rather surprising. And if it weren't for the time I probably would have called her right then and there.

Kenny nods shyly. "She insisted… I mean, I do have the money, my mom lent me money some time ago, but she insisted."

"I see."—and I make sure to add that to my list of things to ask her later. "Speaking of which, how is your mom doing?"

"Fine," he says tensely. I know I've crossed a line by asking about his affairs at home, but I'm in quite the daring mood as of late. Besides, I've barely brought it up since he showed up half-dead outside my window, and I can't ignore it forever.

…or maybe it's because I have no issues of my own to dwell upon, and so I've begun caring about Kenny's again. It makes me feel quite selfish and guilty, though—I'll need to work on that.

"My dad knows why I come here," Kenny continues, and I'm surprised he's delving further into it. "We came to an agreement that I wouldn't tell anyone about his child abuse tendencies if he didn't hurt the others."

"Might as well call it blackmail," I tell him with as frown.

He merely shrugs it off. "It worked for a while. He wasn't a happy guy, but he lived without hurting anyone. My mom was happier again, and things went all right. But a few days ago, when I went back…." His voice dissolves into the air, and as he hangs his head I go over to him and pat his head.

"Ken, you don't have to share if you don't want to—"

"I feel obligated to!" he blurts out, and suddenly his head shoots up to meet mine. "You've put so much trust in me with your problems, you treat me like no one else probably ever could—hell, and you've even given me a safe haven, a place to sleep in! But all I've done is stolen your girlfriend…."

"…I really wouldn't call it stealing, Ken, she never really belonged to me…." I pat his head yet again. "It's all right Ken, really. You don't have any obligations to me at all." It takes a while for him to say anything, and there really isn't a rush or anything. I let him rest on my shoulder—which I feel like I've been doing a lot lately, giving support for others—and I rub his shoulder sympathetically until he decides to talk again.

"I want to," he says simply, biting his lip. He heaves a sigh and then continues. "When I went back, I saw it—no, them. My mom tried to hide it, maybe she was ashamed… but on her arms, her neck…. They were dressed with scars, bruises…. He hit my mom.

"It wasn't just me anymore, and I feel like… I can't play this game of silence anymore. Our agreement was specifically me or my siblings, because I hadn't dreamed he'd hit her too—but he had, and now she was part of this. I dunno if she'll do anything about it, but….

"Maybe it's because I've been acting on courage recently," he says more slowly, coming to a quick pause. And I nod knowingly, understanding that feeling quite well. "But I feel like… I feel like it's about time I tell somebody. And I mean no offense to you Stan, because I've already told you things. But I mean… it's time I _do_ something."

He finishes his short monologue with a nod, and though there are many things I want to tell him the only things I really can do are pat his back and give him an encouraging smile. It communicates pride and respect, a sentiment that lets him know that I support him in his decision. And though all the things I want to say to him are dying to be said, I choose to hold my silence.

And maybe it's some corny irony thing, where our roles have been reversed and instead of me doing all the talking and him keeping things to himself he's the one talking and I'm keeping my mouth shut. But I've never been good at English, so I wouldn't be too sure.

But of course, because it's Kenny and because he's goddamn curious like that, he has to go and ruin the moment by asking about other things—like my date with Kyle. And though it frustrates me that he can't leave me alone for one second or even let himself take the spotlight for once, I decide to answer anyway.

"First of all, it's not a date. And as for what we did this evening, it… it was fun. We both had fun." I ignore Kenny's suggestive look at the word 'fun.' "We didn't exactly sort out our shit, though. We kinda… decided it was best if we ignored it."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Kenny asks, and I shrug. "I mean, it's good now, but if it incites something later on in the future—"

"It won't," I interject. "I refuse to let that happen." There's something doubtful in Kenny's eyes that worries me, but before I can ponder on it too long he shakes it off and gives me the cheesiest grin.

"All right, player! Does that mean you guys are a thing now?" To be honest, I don't really know. I honestly think it's possible, but to be on the safe side I just shrug.

"We'll see tomorrow, won't we?"—and just my luck, my watch beeps midnight, and Kenny gives me the sneakiest grin. "I mean in the morning, Ken."

I ignore his disappointed face.

-

That night, I stumble onto an all-too-familiar of a dream.

It takes me a while to realize it at first, because in the beginning it starts off as a date with Kyle. We're spending the entire day at the fair, and flashes of cotton candy and roller coasters flicker through my mind. Then I find myself bidding Kyle farewell at his front door, with nothing but the porch light illuminating the place around us. And I think I actually may have kissed him in my goodbye, but soon that memory fades and I'm alone in my room once more.

And now I know it's the same dream I've experienced before. The dark room is now too familiar, Sparky sitting in the corner as always. And as always I pass him, ignoring his still form as I investigate the noise that persists in waking me up from my sleep within my dream.

I open the door, and I brace myself for falling again. Except, I don't fall.

But it's still not the hallway on the other side. I'm standing in Kenny's room, and before me a conversation between him and his dad plays.

"You didn't withhold our agreement," says Kenny defiantly, a determined expression upon his face. "I'm sick of you and your lies, dad, you and your _failures_. I won't be played with anymore; I won't be lied to anymore. You're my dad and I loved you, but this has got to stop. And I don't care if you get angry at me, but this is what's best."

His dad doesn't give a response, but instead backhands Kenny across the face. I yelp out of instinct, and then I quickly cover my mouth hoping I'm not heard. But neither of them budge, which leads me to conclude that they probably don't know I'm there.

"Is that for good measure?" Kenny taunts, the nerve rising in him. "You wanna slap all of us once one more time, dad? Because you're not going to be able to after this, you know. If they put you in prison or even if they have you go through some therapy shit, you won't be able to hit anyone in this family anymore."

And to my amazement, Kenny's dad hangs his head in defeat, and he nods slowly before turning his back to his son. I think the guy cries, but I'm not sure since I find myself crawling out of Kenny's window….

…and into Wendy's kitchen.

The setting unsettles me for a moment. It occurs to me I've hardly been here since the day I walked in emotionally enraged. Wendy hadn't regarded anything I did as anything serious in the end, but at the time I felt like I'd raped her, like I'd violated her or taken advantage of her. And it occurs to me simply by being here that I've been a terrible friend in noticing how she's always been there for me, even if she already knew the outcome of things.

Then suddenly Wendy appears from down the stairs. I give a weak hello to her, hoping she doesn't question why I'm here, but she merely ignores me and trudges up the stairs again. Frowning, I follow her to her room, and even when I'm there I notice she doesn't notice me.

"It'll be fine," she's telling herself, seating herself on her bed. Frowning, I take the seat next to her. "It's not like this is a surprise or anything. I always knew he had other interests than me." I freeze, instantly knowing who she's referring to.

I try giving her my condolences, but she doesn't hear me. "You just want him to be happy, right Wendy?" she tells herself, heaving a sigh and placing her hands on her knees. "If you love him that much, you'll be happy seeing him happy… right?"

Tears are rolling down her face. And of course I feel like a terrible friend once more, not realizing that despite Wendy's more encouraging talks with me she might actually be saddened about our final parting. And I want to tell her that nothing's changed, that I still love her as a close friend, that I'll always be there for her, but she doesn't hear me. Even as I place a comforting arm around her, she doesn't react.

Sighing, I bid her a farewell, biting my lip in self-disappointment as I leave her room. But instead of her hallway I'm greeted by the school's hallway, particularly the one nearby the cafeteria. And instantly spotting Tweek's bright hair, I hide behind the nearest set of lockers and eavesdrop.

"J-Jesus, Craig, what's all this for?" he nearly screams, and his voice is hushed by Craig's.

"Quiet, Tweek, someone might hear us."

"B-but—!"

"Look, Tweek, if you don't calm down I won't tell you what I want to tell you." Tweek's spasms die down significantly thereafter. "I just wanted to apologize for not being the friend I probably should have been."

"I-I don't understand what y-you're—"

"Yeah you do," Craig says sternly. "I waited too long to tell you this, and maybe you already thought it was implied by my actions. But by not coming forth with it I'm hardly being fair to you, so… I just wanted to say that I… I can't return anything you might feel for me."

"I know," is all Tweek says.

"But," Craig continues, "that doesn't mean anything has to change… right?" I smile to myself, and as I hear Tweek agreeing enthusiastically I know Craig's done the right thing—and I feel happy.

As I leave my hiding place to give Craig my approval, it's not Craig and Tweek I see, nor is it even the school hallway anymore. It's Kyle.

"So," he says solemnly, not looking at me. "You're serious about this?"

And as if scenery changes occur naturally to me, I quickly reply, "Yeah Kyle, I am."

"You know we're going to have to talk about this eventually," he says slowly, and I'm surprised he actually heard me. "Issues aren't solved by ignoring them."

"I know," I reply. "But it's also pointless to try and make sense out of nothing in shaken states, right? Isn't it better to ignore it now and let things pass, and maybe when we're both more stable we can settle things once and for all?"

Kyle says nothing, but instead steps forward and closes the distance between us. He smiles and closes his eyes, and as he leans to me he kisses me yet again. I close my eyes and wrap my arms around his waist; it hardly feels any different than kissing a girl. But something like that shouldn't really matter, right?—but I don't really have time to think about it, because Kyle's an unexpectedly good kisser….

My quest for the source of the mysterious sound goes forgotten. But I frankly don't mind.

-

A tired Kyle greets me the next morning as he climbs into my car.

"I heard the good news!" Kenny says out of nowhere from the backseat. "I'm so happy for the both of you!"

"Nothing's official!" Kyle and I yell at him at the same time. And then, awkward silence….

"You wanna?" I ask him quietly, raising my eyebrows suggestively. And yeah, I'm sure that's something Kenny would do, but his face is priceless.

Amongst Kenny's catcalls, Kyle nods slowly.

"Well not like that," Kyle snaps, looking at Kenny. "But like… I dunno… stuff like yesterday… I'm fine with that."

"I'll try this again," Kenny interrupts before I can reply to Kyle. And then, with the silliest expression on his face: "I heard the good news! I'm so happy for the both of you!"

"Shut the hell up Ken," Kyle and I yell at him, and he falls dejectedly into his seat.

"By the way Kyle," I begin, a mischievous grin unfolding on my face as I start the car. "Did you do the math homework last night? I didn't… _quite _have the time last night to do it, you see…."

-

"We're doing poetry today," our English teacher begins, hauling the gigantic textbook onto the desk. "Turn to page 867, please…."

I flip open the book, and upon arriving at the page I laugh a little too loudly to myself.

"The Garden of Proserpine."

Kyle would laugh too, I'm sure.

-

Once the bell rings, Craig catches up to me.

"Stan."

"Craig." We look at each other for a while, neither of us saying anything. My relationship with Craig's been oddly weird lately, and even though it's much better than how it was before now it's still an unsettling feeling, not being able to put a finger to it.

"I'm going to talk to him," Craig says at last, conveniently after I blink before him.

"Oh?"

Craig nods quietly. "I've realized I've made a mistake, talking to you. Now don't get me wrong Marsh, I mean no offense. It's just that all this time I've spent telling you about things"—I quietly note to myself that I did more investigating on my own than him actually telling me anything—"I could have spent telling Tweek himself, you know?"

"Yeah," I reply, smiling. "Well, like I said last time, I support your decision. I'm happy you've come up with something."

He laughs. "Nah, don't be Marsh. It's out of your character."

"Out of my character?" I give a fake, hurt gasp. "I'm insulted, _Tucker_. But I think it is you who is out of character, not me."

He smiles and then, after looking around for teachers, he flicks me off.

"That better?"

"Much." And we both laugh our heads off, and even as I see him off and wish him farewell, I enter the cafeteria with my lungs still way above my head. Wendy and Kyle shake their heads at me when I sit down, and Kenny just gives me the most suspicious glare.

"Dare I ask what you're laughing about?" Kenny asks me, though I'm sure the other two have the same urge to ask me too. "Or is that the same nervous laugh you gave this morning when you woke up and realized you'd made the sheets sticky?"

"Shut it, Ken," I warn, catching a mere glimpse of Kyle's reddening face as I look to the other lunch table I'd recently become familiar with. In the distance, I see Craig whispering something to Jean, and immediately after he gets up and asks Tweek to follow him. I almost think he looks in my direction as he leaves, but it might've just been a stray glance.

Good luck, Craig.

"Oh by the way," Kenny says, beaming as he leans on Wendy's shoulder. "Did you hear about the happy new couple?"

Kyle deadpans; I merely hang my head in embarrassment.

"Ken," I begin slowly, "are you going to tell _everyone_ about this?"

Kenny gives the two of us a death glare. "I was referring to me and Wendy, geniuses."

"Oh."

Oh.

"You were quick, weren't you?" Kyle says smugly, and I nudge his side sharply.

"It wasn't _that_ quick," Kenny mumbles, pouting at Wendy. Wendy only smiles at him. For some reason I think this relationship might actually work; Wendy's almost the guy in the relationship it seems, for who knows what reason—and I have a feeling she'll feel more at liberty to be bossier and more demanding to Kenny.

"That means you two…" begins Wendy, and I nod quietly to affirm her question. "That's… great. I'm happy for you Stan. And Kyle too, of course."

"Yeah," I mutter weakly, but something in her eyes tells me otherwise. But she smiles it off and so I drop it for now.

"But you're not being all lovey-dovey," Kenny says, now turning his pouting to us. "Come on, where's the fun in that?" Kyle and I give each other curious glances, but after looking at the expecting Kenny and Wendy, we shake our heads in defiance.

"Not now," Kyle says, just as I say "Not yet."

"I like Stan's answer better," Kenny admits, shrugging. From the corner of my eye I catch Craig and Tweek returning. I can't make out their expressions, but… it at least _seems_ like they're doing all right.

The rest of lunch passes uneventfully. Lots of smiles, lots of laughs, and lots of eating food. But what makes me smile the most is the lack of tension, the lack of angry feelings, the lack of… well, everything, really. And it feels good.

I turn to Wendy and then to Kyle. And as I close my eyes and take in the feeling around me, my mind flashes to the picture of us on my bedroom wall.

Kyle, Wendy, and me.

Just as it should always have been.

* * *

_Posted: August 1st, 2009._

_Unfortunately, there're no chances of me posting the Epilogue early, too. My plan is to end this story on the same day it was created, to celebrate both this story's two year anniversary and its end. But it's weird, I feel like i've written it for maybe three years now._

_And because nearing the end makes me rather sentimental, I'm going to go on a mini speech here.  
_

_Again, thank you so much for sticking around with me. I know I lost some of you when I kept taking absences from writing, but for those who had faith in me and for those who decided to give me another chance and returned to read, I really do appreciate it all._

_For those who reviewed, you have no idea what wonders you've worked (and yes, I'm aware i said this in the beginning author's notes, too. It's just that important and meaningful to me). During my absence, I always received reviews every few weeks wondering where I'd gone, if I'd come back. And those pained me inside, because it reminded me that I had to finish this, that people wanted and were waiting for me to. In a way you all brought me back here, and I am grateful; I've found my old pleasure in writing once more._

_For those who didn't review, I won't question your reasons for not doing so. I'm still grateful that you were there for the ride with me. I hate to use this analogy, but it's like being kidnapped, stuffed into a pitch-black truck. It's like I know I'm not the only one being kidnapped, and that even though I can't see or hear anyone else being kidnapped with me, the fact that I'm not alone is enough to comfort me and keep me strong. And this is how I feel with you, also; though I would have liked you to speak your mind and let me know that you were indeed there, I'm also happy that you were there for me._

_As for future plans, I've begun a story called **The Violinist**. I like where the story is going, and I hope you'll join me on that journey too. _

_Thanks again for putting up with me, and thanks for everything. _

_- G. A.  
_


	30. Epilogue

It's finished. I had other ideas to the epilogue, but I stuck with this one. One day, maybe, I'll update this story with deleted scenes and the other alternate endings I had in mind. But otherwise, this is it. Thanks so much for sticking with me.

* * *

_Epilogue_

"Happy birthday!"

I blink in surprise. "It's… not my birthday?"

"We know." I'm not sure whether to throw something at all of them for their stupidity or to wait for the punch line, but for the moment I settle with stepping inside my house and closing the door behind me. Sparky barks loudly at all the strangers in the house, and I have the feeling that if I were a dog I'd be doing the same thing.

"We were trying to think of a way to pull of a surprise party," Wendy explains, stepping forth from the crowd of people. "And we decided the best way to do it would be to throw it on any day _except_ your birthday."

"It was my idea," I hear Kyle mumble, but Kenny nudges him in the side and silences him.

I laugh. "Well you certainly got me."

"Surprise!" Kenny yells again, and everyone joins in after him, reciting the Happy Birthday song. And though I shake my head the entire time, I find myself in uncontrollable laughter. And even if my birthday's still in two weeks, I have the feeling I might actually enjoy this.

As the excitement dies down and everyone starts scrambling to get food, Kyle comes up to me.

"Hey birthday boy."

"It isn't my birthday."

He nods. "I'm aware. For all intensive purposes of this party, however—"

"Fine, fine." Kenny and Wendy are still the only two who know about everything between Kyle and me, and so even though I feel like swiping a kiss from him instead I just pat his back and squeeze his shoulder affectionately.

"You like this?" Kyle said, turning around to the decorations. "All me."

"No surprise," I say with a laugh. I'm not really sure why the decorations are red and blue in color, except maybe that they're my favorite colors. There isn't anything special about the decorations either, but for the sake of Kyle I compliment his taste.

"You don't have to lie," he says slowly. "Wendy kept insisting I change the decorations, so that's why it looks like that."

"Oh I see." I laugh. "In that case, they look hideous!"

"I heard that!" her voice suddenly booms from behind, and with horror upon my face I find an enraged Wendy glaring at me.

"Oh hey… it's Wends! Come to say happy birthday to—?"

"It isn't even your birthday!" she shrieks, and she storms over to me. I shut my eyes expecting the worst, perhaps a slap to the face—but no, because she's a girl and thus unpredictable, instead I find her arms wrapped around my neck.

"Happy birthday," she whispers, and my eyes grow wide. Something's… bugging her. In truth, I've always known something's been bugging her, since the day Kyle and I started going out. And truth be told I know exactly what it is that's bugging her—but whether I'm willing to admit to her that the realization came to me in a dream….

"I'll let you two have your moment," she says after a while, pulling back and meeting me in the eye—and whether it's really tears or just the light, her eyes are indeed glazed. "Once the festivities start I'm sure you won't get the chance."

"Festivities?" I call after her once she leaves, but she gives no response. Hoping for an answer I turn to Kyle—but he's also disappeared.

And so I'm left alone.

-

As the night goes on I feel like it's become more of a party for everyone else than a party for myself. Video game matches on every TV, groups of gossip and other forms of socializing scattered all around… it's slightly overwhelming. But what's even more overwhelming is how many people are currently in my house—apparently I'm more popular than I realized.

As I walk around my house trying to find Kyle or Kenny or Wendy, I'm suddenly hit over the head by something particularly heavy, and by the impact I fall to the ground.

"What the—?" I begin, but I find myself not finishing the sentence. "Oh. Of course it's you."

"You're growing old," the girl in front of me says with a grin, and she laughs as she pulls me back to my feet. "Mom's gonna kill you for this, you know. Especially since it's not even your birthday."

"Nor is it my party," I reply with a shrug. "But mom and dad were downstairs when I walked in, so I have the feeling they already know about this."

"If you put it that way, then obviously." She laughs. "I can't believe mom would put up for this…."

"I know, right? I guess people change."

"Speaking of which,"—I don't like the sudden change of tone in her voice—"I see you and Kyle have taken a new outlook on things?"

"H-how'd you figure that?" I sputter in shock, turning to my sister with wide eyes. "D-don't tell anyone!"

"You're such a pussy," she scoffs, scuffing my hair; "but I won't. Not that it's a big deal. It's pretty obvious though, Stan. You were basically gay before, but now that you aren't avoiding each other or at each other's throats, you basically look like fags. No offense."

"People usually only use the word fag with offense intended, Shelley."

She gives a shrug. "Whatever. I'm happy for you, kid."

"Thanks." There's an awkward silence as I try to take in her kind words. To think, she used to beat up as a kid…. "That reminds me, why the purse?"

"Oh, this?" she raises the bag in her hand curiously. "It was my birthday present for you."

"Oh… never mind, then."

-

By the time I find Kenny, he only has one question to ask me.

"Who's the bottom in your relationship, Stan?"

"Why do you care?" I snap, looking around the room in an attempt to find Kyle or Wendy.

"I need to know so I can write it in the birthday card I'm giving you."

"Then your answer is we don't know. We haven't exactly thought about sex yet, Ken."

"I see. I think you'd be top though, because you'd be too much of a pussy to take eight inches up your ass."

An unsettling feeling courses through the lower half of my body. "…don't remind me, Kenny. Now can we drop the subject?"

-

I finally find Kyle and Wendy talking to each other near the front door. It surprises me to think that it's taken me this long to find them, since one would only think that the front door would be the first place I'd look. But apparently….

When Kyle sees me he gives Wendy a courteous bow before walking over to me. He greets me with a smile, which I return willingly.

"What was that?"

"Oh, Wendy?" Kyle looks over his shoulder. "Basically congratulating me and telling me she'll win valedictorian to get even with me."

"I see." At that moment a bunch of cheering comes from the living room, and both of us turn to find Craig celebrating his perfect score at karaoke. In the corner I catch Tweek eyeing him carefully, and watching his face feels like a stone being dug into my insides.

"Who brought the karaoke?" I ask Kyle, giving him a curious look.

"Pip."

"Ah." I look over Kyle's shoulder, and my eyes immediately meet Wendy's. She gives me a weak smile before going out the front door, and I frown at the empty space she once occupied.

Kyle seems to have noticed my stray glance. "You wanna talk to her?"

I nod. "Thanks, Kyle." And without his response I chase after her. She isn't really trying hard though, as if she wants me to catch up to her—but I'm not complaining. When I catch up to her, I hold her shoulder gently and turn her around to face me.

"Hi Stan," she says with another smile. "Nice night, isn't it?"

"Wendy." I give her a concerned look, but I don't think she picks up on it.

"The stars seem brighter tonight. And it's a new moon too!"

"Wendy," I repeat, and my grip on her shoulder tightens. "I appreciate the support you've given me, but… if that's not how you feel, you shouldn't burden yourself by making me believe it. I know…"—I close my eyes, guilt setting in—"…I'm sorry. I dunno how to put it. But if you really liked me, which I know you did, and if you still feel that way… you don't have to hide it. I mean I guess I'm not your boyfriend anymore, but if you're not so happy about me and Kyle then you don't have to pretend you do. I still love you Wends, even if you don't approve of where I am."

I look to her, expecting a sad or understanding face; but what I don't expect to see is her face in near laughter. "Stan… you're really silly, you know that?"

"…what?"

"You over-think things too much!" She gives me a tight embrace, and I feel like I'm going to die from her grip. "Of course I support your decision, and of course I know things won't change! It's kinda cute how you go out of your way all the time, thinking you've done something wrong…."

"But…." I hang my head. Did I do it again? Was this a repeat of the airport?—no, wait, was she doing exactly what I was accusing her of right now, just to get me off her back? "What… about earlier? You were definitely crying, Wends."

"Oh… that?" She laughs nervously to herself. "That's… nothing to do with you. I'd just come from watching that new movie, see…."

Oh.

"Well, I'm glad that's settled," I mumble, scratching my head and turning my back to her nervously. "No hard feelings?"

"Of course not." A silence once more, and in the silence I turn my head to the sky. It really is a new moon, and the stars really do seem brighter—not that I thought she had been lying or anything….

"Remember some time ago?" Wendy cuts in, slowly making her way back to my house. "Remember when I said you had to choose between Kyle and me?"

I nod, following after her. "And that I couldn't choose either."

Now it's her turn to nod. "I think I can understand why you made that choice now. You can't really… rank friends, I guess. They're all important in their own ways, right?

"—but I was thinking," she continues, even before I can give her a response. "If instead I had asked… if instead I had you choose between the perfect best friend and the perfect boyfriend…."

I laugh at the thought. "Wends, you know I'm much better at being the better best friend."

"I know… you're terrible at romance."

"Hey!" I snap at her, feeling hurt.

"But anyway," she continues, ignoring my pang of hurt; "if you had to choose? In all seriously."

"You aren't really making me go through this again, are you?" I ask in disbelief, hanging my head. "Back then, I wouldn't know. It's really the same question as the other, Wends, just instead of names you're using titles. But now, I guess I'd like to be both… for obvious reasons. I mean I'm no good at being the perfect boyfriend, but for Kyle I'd like to be both."

Wendy smiles at my answer, as expected—but what I don't expect is her backhand connecting with my cheek.

"_Shit,_ that hurts!" I yell at her, sporting my cheek. And really, it's like everyone wants to hit me tonight….

"Wrong answer," she says simply. "I may have been blind to it, but… back then you did choose. It's not that you couldn't choose between us, it's that… you chose both of us."

"But choosing between things means… choosing that one or this one… doesn't it?" Wendy gives me a smug smile and doesn't give an immediate response. Instead she opens the door to my house for me, and I laugh at my own conscience, stepping inside.

"You were the perfect boyfriend," she whispers, "besides being his perfect best friend."

"Even if you broke up with me more than twenty-five times?"

Wendy chooses to ignore my comment, and she visually points at Kyle. "You were both back then, and I'm sure you can be both now."

"You think so?"

Wendy nods. "Give yourself some credit, Stan. But really, don't mind me. I'll be fine without you. But that's only because of you, right?" Kyle catches our presence, and it's with no doubt he also realizes we're talking about him. But he doesn't move toward us; he simply stands and watches us.

"Wends—"

"Go get him."

"—what?"

Wendy clears her throat, making obvious motions towards Kyle. "I said, go get him." And though I really don't know what she means by that, I find my body instinctively moving forward to meet Kyle.

He gives me a smile, I return it, and placing an arm around him we look towards what's to come. Whether it's excelling at a karaoke duet, slaving over college applications, watching the flowers bloom in spring, or even everything we can't predict thereafter… the road ahead is still bright.

- FIN -

* * *

_**Project started:** August 17th, 2007.  
**Project finished:** August 17th, 2009._

_Again, thanks to everyone for sticking with me for this long. You've all made me so happy, and I hope I've done the same by writing this story. I'd say it all again here, but I think you already know how I feel already, so I'll refrain._

_I purposely left a particular aspect of Stan and Kyle's relationship unanswered in order to leave an opening for a possible sequel. But whether I'll write one depends on reader demand I guess.  
_

_As for where to go from here, I think I've found inspiration in the Harry Potter genre. Is anyone a fan of Ron/Draco? I was considering the pairing, but after looking around it doesn't seem to be that popular. Maybe Harry/Ron or Harry/Draco? I did post a mystery/angst/drama/romance story that hints at Al/Scor slash, so take a look at that if you're interested.  
_

_So, 500 reviews? Not going to happen. Worth a shot, though.  
_

_Please, if you have the time, review or leave a comment. Especially since this is the last time you can show appreciation or hatred to me, I'd be thrilled to hear what you have to say._

_- G. A. _


End file.
